Frequency
by Tend to Infinity
Summary: Since Leslie's death, Jess has been obsessed with fixing radios.  One day, he recieves a radio as a donation and, when he fixes it, realizes he can talk to his ten year old self, with chance to change the past. Part 1 of Atonement.
1. Chapter 1: A Normal, Teenage Life

**A/N: For future reference, this follows the book except for what the characters look like; Leslie looks like Anna Sophia Robb.**

**Frequency**

**Chapter 1: A Normal, Teenage Life**

Night was creeping in on "Aarons' Hardware" and the shop was silent. Well, almost silent. There was a sound of the tightening of bolts and the occasional curse. The shop was pitch black, bar a lone light illuminating a table in the back room, where a lone boy sat, tinkering with a old radio.

The boy's name was Jess Aarons. He had a part time job in his father's company where he fixed things. That's what he did, and that was what he was good at. He spent a lot of time alone when he was younger, so his dad showed him how to fix a radio. From then on, it was all he would ever do. Now, around the run down settlement that was his town, he was a bit of a novelty. They would say: "If you had a radio problem or a car needin' fixin', bring it to that Aarons' boy, he'll fix it right up!"

Jess was sixteen years of age, suffered with serious sleep insomnia, and attended Tristitia Creek High School, West Virginia. Tristitia was the local big town, about four miles west of Lark Creek, and was somewhere Jess tried to avoid, far too many people for his liking.

He may as well not attend school, he wasn't a model student. He spent as much of his time away as possible, and spent most of his time there staring out of the window. At one point, not too long ago, his parents would have tiptoed around his emotions, knowing he was fragile. However, five years on, they had no time for it. He was regularly scolded for either not being at school (because he was in this shop), or not paying attention on the rare occasion he was.

Why did he loath school so much? Simple, he was alone. Kids can be cruel, and a lone teenager is like a fish out of water for any group; an easy target. What made matters worse was his clothes. Even though he got a lot of work at Aarons' hardware, most people in his town were poor and could barely pay, which meant that prices had to be very low. For this reason, he got hand-me-downs from his two obnoxious older sisters. Their old pink shoes that he used to have to cover with old ink. Not any more, it all seemed so pointless now. He went in with his pink shoes and too long shirts and didn't notice until someone smacked into him in the halls or ganged up on him in his car.

"What is wrong with this thing?" he muttered, slapping the radio on the side. He had been tinkering for three hours now, and still nothing.

It was a sight, a sixteen year old boy, on his own, working at nine o'clock on a Friday night when everyone else was out experimenting with drugs or alcohol with their friends. Why wasn't that him? That was the reason for his insomnia, his obsession with fixing what was broken and the reason he wasn't a model student. Jess had been through more than most American teenagers can only dream of and can never, truly imagine. Jess had everything, and it had been ripped from him.

"Ah," he said, coiling a particularly irritating bit of wire and Lark Creek radio service filled his ears.

Jess didn't lean back, sigh with happiness for fixing something that had taken him so long, all he did was stand up and shut the light off. He headed through the store, locking up the doors his father had told him to, and locked the front entrance behind him. What greeted him when he turned was his sorry excuse for a car.

Without worrying, like most teenagers do, about how he looked, he opened the door and hopped in. The car, grumbling as if it didn't want to wake up, stalled for a moment before starting. This time he sighed, pulled out of the car park, and headed to the long, dirty road that lead to his old, dirty house.

xXx

**A/N: From here on out the story will be in first person, that was a small introduction. **

I pushed our front door open and headed inside. "Hey there, Jess," May-Bell greeted me from reading on the stairs. She was older now, but had exactly the same childish face that looked like it could cry at any moment.

"Hi," I said, absent mindedly. "Did Mom save me any food?" I asked, just noticing that I was hungry from my stomach angrily growling at me.

"Yeah," she replied. "A couple of sandwiches, I think."

"Thanks," I told her, letting that be the end of it as I headed down the hall to the kitchen. Most of my conversations with others were like this, now. Mechanical and felt rehearsed, and never longer than a minute. My thoughts were always to be my own.

Dad was waiting at the table, reading through some pieces of paper that were undoubtedly finance sheets. He looked up and nodded at me in greeting. I nodded back. "Did you fix it?" he asked me, looking back to the papers.

"Yeah, just a coil was interfering," I said, not wanting to go into any detail.

"Right," he replied. "I'll call Mrs. Jackson to come pick it up in the morning, she loved that radio."

That was something you learned from fixing radios: how much people loved them. You also learned a lot about people and, pieced together with my own experience, you could really understand them. Mrs. Jackson didn't love her radio, it wasn't the radio at all. Her husband was a truck driver, so they never saw each other. Mrs. Jackson loved her husband, and missed him every second, and was crushed by the loneliness of not seeing him when she woke up in the morning. The radio spoke to her, gave her someone to listen to who would always be there. I know how she feels. Loneliness is the worst emotion of all. Other than guilt...

"Yeah," I replied, again absent mindedly, "yeah... she does."

"Did you lock up?" he asked briskly.

"Yes," I replied, heading over to the dirty fridge and grabbing the sandwiches Mum had put out on a plate for me.

"You have any school work to finish?" Dad asked.

"Yeah, got some maths," I replied. That was all it was with Dad. He asked a question, I replied, he asked another question, and I replied again. Not much of a conversation. Then again, I had experienced one of those for a long time. Five years, to put a number on it.

"Make sure you get up there and do it," he grunted. His voice had become a lot more husky recently; we must be going under again. Then again, had we ever been, financially, above water? Did it really matter, anyway? Money was just as meaningless as people. As soon as you get it, it's taken away from you. "I don't want another call from no damn teacher complaining about you, you understand?"

"Yes."

"What are you waiting for?"

I didn't respond to that, just took my food up to my room and got on with my homework. At one point, the crushing blow of my father disregarding everything I do brought me to almost tears. Not any more, I think I am 'all cried out'. Now I just seem to be going through the motions of life, like the machines I fix, rather than actually living it. All day I long to be asleep, but sleep never comes. Damn this insomnia.

When I got in my room, which was bare since my sister had moved out into the room where my eldest sister used to live, who had moved out with a boyfriend to Charleston, I saw the piece of paper that was my maths work. I sat at my desk and answered the questions, getting as many right as I could be bothered to, before heading into my bed. It was early, but there was nothing to do but lie in my bed.

I curled up and stared at a picture that I had never removed from my wall since the day after I drew it. The childish drawing that expressed more emotion, to me, than any Da Vinci painting or Beethoven Sonata ever could. A childish drawing of a furiously blonde girl stared back at me.

Leslie...

Leslie Burke. My childhood friend, my childhood best friend. I was ten years old when I met her, a tiny age where everyone thinks you are blind to the world. I probably was, but there was one thing that I knew even then, that Leslie meant everything to me.

You see, I was like Mrs. Jackson. My sisters ignored me, my dad didn't seem to care about me and all Mum did was feed me. I was completely isolated in my own home. School was no better. All that happened there was I was tormented by the local bullies, bothered by a big girl called Janice and spent all my time doodling to escape life. No ten year old should have to feel like that.

Then, one day, out of the blue a young girl read her work on the sea. I was mesmerised, even then. At first, I was full of trepidation; everything hadn't gone well for me so I tried to stay on my own. However, she showed me a world, the true escapism for the trapped. Leslie Burke showed me a land called Terabithia.

Terabithia was a land that existed within our minds, but back then it seemed so real. When I look back, I saw how tragic it was: two children finding hope in each other, who were crushed by their own loneliness so much they had to escape into an imaginary world. However, I loved every second of it and, even now, I would give anything to go back.

The reason I can't go back is even more terrible. As I said, there is only one thing worse than loneliness and that is guilt. Guilt presses upon my shoulders every second I am awake and haunts my dreams every moment I sleep. The guilt of knowing I killed something special.

Like my teacher said, girls like her don't come about every day. I think she was wrong about that, though. Girls like Leslie don't come about every century. She was rarer than a diamond on a beach. Even knowing this, even watching her run through the rain with the dog I had given her just for an excuse to see her smile, I still betrayed her and deserted her when she needed me most of all.

Leslie Burke died five years ago, at eleven years of age. It was one of the biggest tragedies to strike my town. I never told anyone exactly why it was my fault, and that made it all my fault. I could never utter the words fully.

Ms. Edmunds was my childhood crush, a beautiful teacher than taught me music and encouraged my art. One day, seemingly out of the blue, she asked me if I wanted to go to an art museum with her. Obviously, I accepted without a moments hesitation. On the day, a Saturday (if I remember rightly), I rushed out of the house and jumped into her car. That was the moment I could have done something.

Out of the love of being alone in Ms. Edmunds' company, I looked at Leslie's house and ignored her. Little did I know, she was heading the the land she had invented without me. I wonder what she was thinking when she tried to cross the water. I wonder what she thought of me during those moments she hung in the air, like an angel, before tumbling into the torrent and ending her life. Did she blame me? She should do, I deserve it.

If I had just invited her, or if I'd have jumped out of the car and told Ms. Edmunds that I would go another time, or never. If I had just not been a selfish creature not worthy of breath, I could have rescued her. The worst part is knowing she would never have done it to me. She would never have betrayed me. That much I know to this day, you would never meet someone a quarter as loyal as Leslie Burke.

Now she's gone. Taken away from me when I had just become so happy. It was the perfect week when she died. I watched her run through the rain, that damn rain that raised the water and rotted the rope, smiling back at me I felt so happy with my life, knowing I was going to spend a long time with her. I had stupid visions of marrying her, like little kids do, as I scurried back to my house. I relive that moment again and again, just to see her smile back at me. As I get older, the image gets more blurred, and I scream inside for more time, knowing there can be none.

To summarise, it's all my fault and I hate that I lived and she didn't.

**Well, I hope you enjoyed. I tried to imagine how I would feel in his situation, and I hope I did it justice. **


	2. Chapter 2: A Mysterious Stranger

**Chapter 2: A Mysterious Stranger**

"Wait, stop the car!" I shouted at Ms. Edmunds.

Ms. Edmunds' car ground to a halt. "What is it?" she said, looking frantically.

"I've forgotten something, something important," I said, opening the door and falling out with the fright.

"What is it, Jess?" Ms. Edmunds called.

I wasn't listening, I was running so fast my legs were aching. Leslie's house was my destination, she could come with me the the museum, I bet she would love it! I ran down the front yard of her house and knocked on the door. After a few, incredibly long seconds, Leslie's balding, bearded, but kind hearted father answered. "Oh, hey Jess," he smiled.

"Have you seen Leslie?" I asked, not able to understand why I was so frantic and so full of dread.

He frowned. "She just left, I think she was heading to you house," he frowned further, his brow almost touched his eyes. "Is there anything wrong?"

"No, nothing," I said, turning and scurrying down the lawn. "Thanks Mr. Burke."

"Don't mention it," I heard him chortling as I ran to my house. I couldn't see her, and the door didn't look disturbed. She must have already gone over and realised I wasn't there. There was only one place she would have gone. She must have headed to Terabithia.

I ran down the path we made by walking over it every day, my legs becoming unbearable as I tore as fast as possible. However, nothing in the world would make me stop. I felt like something awful was just about to happen. I ran through the bushes, not stopping as they cut my arms, to the path that led to the rope swing, and it was there I saw her.

Everything zoomed into her face. It was like I was standing right next to her and looking into her eyes. Her eyes weren't normal, there were tears in them and they were bloodshot. "You did this to me, Jess," she said.

"No!" I screamed, falling to my knees where I was, but still looking right at her. "I didn't, I came back for you. I didn't know this was going to happen." The force and emotion that coupled that scream made my lungs beg for release.

"You didn't protect me, Jess," Leslie said, he head bending to one side like it did when she was thinking particularly hard.

"There was nothing I could do!"

"You loved her more than me," her arm raised and pointed at me. "If you cared about me you would have done something!"

Before I screamed in response, Leslie plummeted, though it took seconds for her to hit the water, it felt like a life time. I never saw what happened when she hit, all I was greeted with was my room.

xXx

My room was pitch black and I was holding my pillow, sobbing into it. My arms were wrapped around it and my legs were crossed. "No," I sobbed into it, punching myself in the leg. "No, no, no, no, no!" and with each "no" I smacked myself again.

"Leslie," I said into my pillow. "Why did you have to leave me?"

It took my at least an hour to calm down and, when I did, I couldn't get back to sleep. Even if I didn't suffer from insomnia, I was to terrified of seeing her face. I was too terrified of seeing her vulnerable and being helpless.

That same dream. I had it so often, now, I had the whole act committed to memory. I was never free any more, even asleep I'm tormented worse, perhaps, then being awake. I gave her my own send off, my own service, committing her into the hands of God. I know she's happier than me, so why did I feel so awful. I wish I could feel nothing. One thing I have never wished, however, is that I never met her. That time I spent with Leslie, however short, was better than anything I could ever imagine, and I could never replace it; I never want to. I suppose it is true, it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. However, you must suffer for love. I've also heard that, but never realised it would be anything like this.

I checked my alarm clock; it was seven o'clock. I may as well go and open the shop and call Mrs. Jackson. Perhaps, and I seriously doubt it, helping Mrs. Jackson will make me feel better. I grabbed a piece of paper off the side and scribbled a note. As I left the house, I pinned it on the door. It read:

"Gone to work, will call Mrs. Jackson. Don't worry about it.

-Jess."

xXx

As I parked my car outside the shop, I wished that what was on the radio would comfort me. Fixing them helped, but it didn't always take very long, so the relief was minute. I unlocked the door and turned the decrepit "closed" sign over to show we were open. I turned all the lights on and made for the coffee machine that dad had bought when we got a little bit of extra money in. I was really grateful: refreshing coffee first thing in the morning cleared my head, somewhat.

As I waited for the coffee to be made I sat at my chair. My chair and my work desk were mine and were the same every day, that comforted me. Knowing that something would change was a good thing. Things would often go horrifically wrong for no reason, so I tried to do nothing so I wouldn't have any more guilt to add to my psyche.

After I had grabbed my drink and settled down, all I did was stare at the clock. I didn't blink until I noticed that I wasn't. Just when I thought that eight o'clock, the time when it's accepted to ring someone, would never come, the door opened. "Hello?" I called out.

"Oh, hi," a man with a broad smile nodded.

He was very old, with a cap on covering what little hair he had. The skin around his eyes were wrinkled, but it didn't seem to be from age: he must smile a lot. He was wearing a corduroy suit, which was a strange red, and you could the chain from a watch in his pocket. His eyes were incredibly blue, they were almost blinding. Other than Leslie, I had never seen a happier person. What did this man know that I didn't?

"Yes, yes," he said, in a very old voice. "Young man, I have an ham radio that I want to donate. It's no use to me now and I just found it in the garage. Sorry, but it's broken," he laughed. "I don't know what else to do with it."

"Oh," I said, standing up to greet the man. "Yeah, thanks. Err..." he looked at the man. "Where is it?"

The man chortled again. "That's the problem," he replied. "I'm not as young as I used to be, I had to get a neighbour to lift it in the car. I'm sorry to ask, but can you come get it out of the boot?"

I nodded, as politely as possible. The truth is, I don't trust overly happy people. Not anymore, especially since that attitude reminded me of Leslie. "Can you show me it, then?" I asked.

"Yes, yes," he said. "Follow me!"

He led me out of the shop. For a old man, and I presume very old by his looks, he walked like someone much younger. He must have been seventy, and didn't have a cane or walking stick. He was slightly hunched. Other than that, however, he could have been mistaken for a forty year old, at least.

He unlocked the boot of his car and popped it open for me to reveal a behemoth of hardware. It was a real, and a really old, HAM/amateur radio. I think I had one of these when I was a kid... Yeah, that's right, you can talk to people who are on the same frequency as you. "Would you like it, then?" the old man asked, looking at me.

This old man, unlike most of the elderly around here, had a aura of knowledge and wisdom. There was something about him, about the way he acted, that gave the impression that he knew much more about the world than anyone I would ever meet. "Yeah," I muttered. "I used to love these things when I was younger."

"Yeah," he smiled, before coughing and smiling again. "Yeah, most of the kids do. They just love talking to people they can't see."

"Yeah," I murmured. "So, I'll take it in, then."

"Thank you," the old man replied. Why was he thanking me? I hadn't done anything for him, he was doing this for me! The old man huddled forward and pushed the door open for me.

The radio weighed a tonne and getting it in was no easy feat. I had to put it down, stretch, then pick it back up about twelve times before I finally got it back to my desk. After I had got it down, I looked up to see the man. "You're Jess Aarons, aren't you."

I get that question a lot, it's part of the lingo of people around here. In a small village like mine, everyone knows everyone else's business. "Yeah."

"Oh, you're a bit of a prodigy around here, aren't you," he told me. "The people down at the centre bring your name up from time to time, about fixing their tvs. That's very impressive!"

"Err," I didn't know what to say. "Thanks."

"Anyway, I have somewhere to go," the old man said, checking his pocket watch. He headed for the door. "Oh, by the way, watch out when driving later in the week," he said, turning to look right at me when he reached the door. "There's apparently going to be a big storm." He winked, which perplexed me, and departed, leaving my mind whizzing about what on earth had just happened.

After shaking my head for what could have been any amount of time, I looked up at the clock: it was ten past eight. "Well, best ring Mrs. Jackson," I muttered to myself, talking to myself for no reason. I grabbed the phone by my desk and dialled.

Ring. Ring. Ring. "Hello?" Mrs. Jackson said down the phone.

"Hi, Mrs. Jackson," I said down the line in my salesman voice; even though I felt awful, I had to maintain the income of the family. "It's Jess Aarons."

"Oh," she said, perking up slightly. "Is my radio fixed?"

"That's right," I said, trying to sound like I was smiling even though I was falling back into misery. "You can come and pick it up whenever today, we're in all day."

"Oh, thanks so much, Jess," she said. I think she was too happy to remember that I was the strange boy. Everyone knew I was good with radios and fixing things, but that didn't stop them giving me weird looks. I could imagine what they were thinkings:

"There's Jess, that boy who's friend died and he went mad."

"Hey, isn't that Jess, the weirdo who doesn't go out?"

"Avoid that Jess, he's bad luck, he killed his best friend."

That last one was the worst. Even though people couldn't possible know the real reason for Leslie's death, they gossiped about me being to do with it. It hurt when I heard someone mutter it, it hurt more than they could imagine. I'm not sure if they believe it or not, people love to gossip, but the fact that it's true is the worst of all.

Once I had listened to five minutes of Mrs. Jackson's musings and thanks, I said goodbye and put the phone down before trying to relax in my chair. Once I had, I was greeted by the friendly site of a broken HAM radio. It took up most of the desk on its own, I'd never seen hardware this big, and had the microphone and headphones with it.

After checking to see the problem, turning it on and such, I tried to smile, failed and then picked up a screwdriver and began to unscrew the screws holding the monster together.


	3. Chapter 3: The Radio

**A/N: This occurs in the time line of the book, though the events did not happen in the book.**

**Oh, just in case it is important, I don't own Frequency, the Movie, or Bridge to Terabithia. All rights go to their respective owners and whatever. This is non profit, anyway, so it shouldn't matter. **

**Thanks to all my reviewers for your input, it's much appreciated. However, this may be the last chapter for a while as the next chapter is hard to get just right. Anyway, on with the chapter!**

**Chapter 3: The Radio**

She's so weird, I thought as I headed back to my house from time in the magical kingdom of Terabithia, I've never met anyone like her!

I grinned to myself as I pushed the door open to my house. As I entered, I was greeted by my sisters, who were looking very surly, crowded around the television. They were so stupid, the real magic was outside. The real fantasy lived across the road from us, and they were sitting, watching T.V and waiting for something to happen. No wonder Lesley hated , they suck your life away!

I was also greeted by May Belle, sitting on the stairs, looking incredible smug. "Were you with Lesley?" she grinned.

"Yeah, what of it?" I asked.

She made a kissing face, which infuriated me. "Jess and Leslie, sitting in a tree..." she sang. I tried to ignore my other sisters laughing at me, but I could feel myself going red.

"Shut your mouth," I growled.

"Watch your mouth, Jess," Mum called from the kitchen. This was how my parents always acted when it came to arguments between May Belle and me. They didn't even care what happened, or listen as I tried to explain, they just took her side straight away.

"Jess!" I heard a husky voice shout, also from the kitchen. It was Dad and he was probably going to shout at me, or something, for getting into an argument with May Belle. "Get in here!" he shouted. Looks like I'm right, I thought as I headed in. I prepared myself for the scold that was just about to come. I doubt my parents even loved me. This used to really bother me, but now I have Leslie nothing else matters. I didn't need to prepare a lot, nothing brings me down now.

I walked into the kitchen to find a massive mechanical... thing on the table. I can't describe what it looked like. It was massive and so, so ugly. "This is something we found in the loft," Dad said, his voice huskier than usual, so we probably don't have a lot of money.

"What is it?" I asked, walking over to it and laying a hand of it.

"It's an HAM radio," Dad explained, he patted it gently. "We have no use for it and we probably won't be able to sell it. Do you want to try it out, see if there are any frequencies you can tap into?"

"Yeah," I said, actually interested. There were bound to be loads of people around here with these, so I could mess about and talk to people. Maybe Leslie has one, then I can talk to her even if I'm in the house. "Yeah."

"Help me carry it up to your room then," Dad said, grabbing it on the edge. "Come on then!" he growled as I just stood there. "Get the edge."

"Err..." I stuttered as I helped him carry it up the stairs. "Thanks, Dad."

"Don't mention it," he replied, making sure he didn't drop it. "If it doesn't work, tell me, we'll throw it out."

"Alright," I said. However, I had no intention of throwing it out, regardless of whether it worked or not. This was a present off Dad, it was important to me and throwing it out would be stupid. I don't get a lot of presents off my family.

After a lot of growling from Dad, the occasional curse and pushing stuff off my desk, which I did not appreciate, the radio. As he set it up, he knew what he was doing, I gazed out of my window, thinking about Terabithia and Leslie.

I don't get what I feel about her. She's my friend, but this doesn't feel like friendship, not at all. This feels like when I'm not with her something is missing from me and I can feel it. It's really tough to explain because I don't really understand it, myself.

After about, I looked at the clock, twenty minutes, Dad told me that he had finished and began to explain how to use the machine that was making my room look smaller. There was a knob on the front that, if you turned, adjusted the frequency that it connected through. He said that you could talk to anyone on the same frequency through the microphone. I nodded as he spoke, trying to take in information but every time I concentrated I saw Lesley. I saw her standing atop our castle shouting to the prisoners. Even the wind obeyed her, that's how weird she was.

"Hey, you listening, boy?" Dad snapped.

I nodded frantically, I had no idea what he had said and hoped that he didn't ask. I had a basic understanding of it, now, and was ready to use it. "Oh great," Dad grunted, looking out of the window. "Look at that," he nodded out of the window. There was a lot of black clouds in the distance, covering a whole section of the sky.

"Thunder storm," he grunted. "It's probably going to play up, so don't expect much. People get weird stuff on those things whenever we have lightning. Don't ask why, I don't know."

Dad left without saying anything and I sat at the desk, smiling at the machine my dad had given me. I made a mental note to ask Leslie tomorrow if she had one.

xXx

Did that guy say there was going to be a storm later this week? That perplexed me as I fiddle around with the innards of what I had come to call "The Behemoth". It was Saturday today, and the week ended Sunday, so did that mean there was going to be a storm today or tomorrow? What a weird old man.

The thing he had given me, however, was not just weird, it was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Strange circuits and just... well I could explain it. I was pretty good at guessing how long it would take me to find the problem, but I had no idea with this one. However, I was pretty sure it would take my Saturday away. It didn't matter, what was I going to do with it, who would I spend my time with? I was completely alone.

Mrs. Jackson had stopped by half an hour ago and she was so pleased, and amazed, that I had fixed it she had given me five dollars. It wouldn't seem like much to any of the rich kids from the cities, but it's a big deal for someone like me. I wasn't going to spend it, there was nothing to spend it on, money didn't make me happy. May Belle would probably appreciate it, though.

I could feel that tense feeling in my chest again, that tightness that made me want to scream and cry until I couldn't breath. Why did she have to die? I shook my head violently and tried to focus on the machine. Of the two of us, who was kinder? Who was more thoughtful? Who was smarter? Leslie wins every time. I deserved to fall into the river, not her. I derserve to die for what I did. I murdered someone.

"No!" I shouted. "No! It wasn't my fault!"

I smacked the side of the radio, hard and jumped out of my chair. "Why, God?" I shouted upwards. "Why would you take her from life? She was innocent. There are so many bad people in the world, why would you do this to her?"

I had this conversation with God often and, before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face and plummeting to the floor. Leslie would say something wonderful, now. She would say something about fairies and magic and happiness. But how can I imagine any of that when this world lets a ten year old girl die? How can I even be selfish enough to want to be happy?

I smacked the table, hard, and it shook the radio. "I need some air," I muttered, rubbing my eyes with my sleeve and rushing out of the shop.

When I walked out I saw something weird. I had been in the shop for two hours, and my desk is no where near windows, so I couldn't have been expected to know. I looked up into the sky to not see sky. What I saw was black clouds approaching, an army of them clawing their way across the sky. The old man was right on the money, and he had arrived two hours ago and these clouds were quick. Had he seen them, or had he watched/ listened to the news. It didn't matter, he had said not to drive and he was probably right.

However, I never stopped until I finished a job. I always finished what I started. Like the bridge that I had built to honour the love of my life. On that, I wish the younger me had understood what he was thinking. If he had, he would have grabbed Leslie as hard as he could and never let go. If he had, then she wouldn't have left me. I was such as idiot.

Shaking my head, trying to ignore the fact that it felt like I was wearing a suit of steel, I forced myself back inside and fell into my chair. Trying, blindly, I turned the power on and fidgeted about with the radio. Nothing. Nothing at all.

"This thing is never going to work," I growled, slapping it again. Just as I slapped it, I heard thunder erupt. I jumped in fright, almost falling of my chair. I almost laughed after I had controlled myself. Lightning? I thought, this quick. After the sound, came the heavy pitter patter of a million raindrops on the window. Again, Leslie would have made this incredible. The first time she had shown her mind I was so amazed my mouth fell open. Her mind could shape the world.

Then I heard something strange. It was a crackle, like someone was rustling paper by my ear. "What is that?" I muttered, looking around. Once I had eliminated everything else, I realised. The radio was working. "Really?" I whispered incredulously. "I got it to work by almost breaking it." I sniffed. "Go figure."

I fiddled around with the knobs like Dad had shown me all of those years ago until I reached one that was particularly crackly. "Hello?" I said, confused. No reply, what was I thinking? Of course no one was messing on these any more, they went out of fashion when I was younger.

"He..." the signal went and crackled. "Di... I... ear... some..one?"

I frowned before adjusting the frequency as fast as possible; I didn't want to lose, probably, the only person on one of these things. "Hello?" I found myself shouting into the microphone.

"Hey," the voice. "Watch it, you'll my eardrums!"

I half grinned, the person had heard me shouting at him. "You there?" he asked. Whoever this guy was, he definitely was a kid, no older than twelve, maybe. His voice sounded familiar, but it was probably the accent: everyone sounded alike around here.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi there," he replied.

"You all right?" I asked. What a basic conversation, just the bare minimum of human communication.

"I am better than that," the boy said. Whoever this kid was, he sounded like hadn't been happy often, like he wasn't used to it. What he said certainly didn't roll off his tongue. I knew exactly how he felt.

Fine, I'll bite, he probably wants me to ask anyway. "What's so good, then?" I asked.

"I just have the best friend ever," he said. I could see him smiling in my head. He was probably talking to himself, saying what he was feeling. Again, he sounded like someone who didn't tell people his emotions.

"Sounds like more than a friend," I said, resting on my hand. This kid didn't know what it was like to have the best friend ever. He didn't know Leslie. As I spoke to him again, I had this weird feeling in my head, like I was taking in new knowledge.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"She's a girl, isn't she," I replied. It was quite amusing how dumb kids were. You could always tell kid crushes. If only they knew how meaningless they are. This just bought me crashing down to the ground in my head. What Leslie and I was special, unlike this. He probably wouldn't even care about them in the morning.

"Yeah, how did you know?" he asked.

"Just a guess," I replied.

"Yeah, she is, she lives right next to me, down the same road."

Did he really just say that. "Good for you," I muttered, thinking for a while.

"Yeah, but she's really weird," the boy said, musing again. It was so obvious when this kid was talking to you and when he was talking to himself.

"How long have you known her?" I asked, trying to fall into this kids life. I can't believe how desperate I am to escape from my own. Then again, I've always been like that.

"Not long, she just moved in, we met in a race."

"What?" I muttered. Now that's just weird. Was someone playing a nasty trick on me. Was this that ass hole Scott trying to get me sad again. That kid was worse than anyone I had ever met, and hitting him had made me feel relieved; it took away some of the grief. "Did she.." I stalled, should I play along just to get kicked about and laughed at, at school again? "Did she win?"

"Yeah," he said.

I'm going to ask. "What's her name?" I asked. This would tell me, once and for all, if this was really some guy from school messing about.

"The girl's name?" he didn't say anything from a second, maybe he was debating whether or not to tell me. "I'm not telling you, I don't know you."

That's surprising, I thought, perhaps this isn't Scott, after all.


	4. Chapter 4: Connection with The Boy

**A/N: Sorry if this chapters not as good as usual, it's just very hard to write these conversations. **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed my story and MadTom, this only has the same plot idea as the film. The reason for the connection and the events will be different. Thanks for commenting ^^. **

**It didn't take as long as I thought, but I hope this works. **

Chapter 4: Connection with 'The Boy'

The rain was pouring down outside and the wind was so strong that it was shaking our house. It had been the most sudden storm I had ever seen, and the thunder and flashes were getting closer. I wonder what Leslie would say about lightning? Probably that it was the Dark Master casting spells. She was weird like that.

Who is this guy? I thought to myself, pulling my thoughts away from Leslie. Dad had only just got me this... thing, and I had already met some weird person who wants to know Leslie's name. "So... who are you then?" I asked, not knowing what to say and rapidly getting bored.

"I'm just a guy," he replied.

"How old are you?" I asked. He didn't sound very old and definitely was not an adult. He sounded very sad though, like he had had a really awful day, or week, or maybe year. He sounded like someone had stopped him from sleeping; he must be tired.

"Sixteen," he replied, more open to talking than me.

"Oh, cool," I said, pulling a piece of paper out from a radio and grabbing the nearest pencil and starting to draw. "I'm eleven."

"Should you really be on one of these things?" he asked.

"Yeah, my Dad gave it to me," I replied. There was something really weird about this. For some reason, even though I had only said a few words to whoever this is, he not only sounded familiar, but it was difficult not to talk to him. I didn't really like talking to the stranger.

"Sounds like a great guy," the boy muttered. "Getting you a gift that's older than he is."

Yeah, that was my dad all right. "It was a gift; I think it's great," I replied. I loved this, but he only gave it to me because no one else would have it. He had even told me that it wouldn't sell. He gets May Belle any barbies she wants and all she does is break them in some stupid game.

"You don't sound too sure," the boy muttered. He seemed to know what he was talking about.

I started drawing on the piece of paper. "Well, what did your Dad get you when you were eleven?" No one was rich around here, so no one got anything good.

The boy didn't say anything for a moment. After he sighed. "He got me a racing set for my eleventh birthday," he told me.

"Really?" I said, shocked. "My dad did the same."

"Yeah, well, it didn't work, he hated it," the boy replied.

That was really odd. That was exactly how my dad had reacted. Was it a coincidence or was someone yanking my chain. It couldn't be Scott, he couldn't know that this was me. It must be a coincidence. "Yeah," I murmured. "The cars kept coming off the track."

"Yeah," he said, his voice trailing off at the end. "They must all do that. Dad wanted to take it back, he didn't want to waste the money."

Maybe my dad wasn't so unique in being nasty. Maybe they all were? This guy's dad seemed to be a jerk as well. Leslie's parents seemed great, maybe they were the weird ones, not my dad. He was no worse than the other dads.

"So, you at Lark Creek School?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied. I'm not sure I should be telling him this, but then again, every kid my age was at Lark Creek, so I wasn't really revealing anything. "I hate it."

"Tell me about it," the guy replied. "Worst years in my life..." his voice trailed off at the end.

"Yeah, my teacher's a monster," I told him. Maybe he remembered her.

"Not to mention all eighth grade kids pushing everyone around," the boy said, sighing into the microphone. "Hey, does anyone still charge you to get in the toilets, there was the one girl when I went that did that all the time..." he voice trailed off again, like he was about to choke up.

"You all right?" I asked.

"Ye... yeah, I'm fine," he said.

I paused for a minute. "Yeah, there's a girl at my school who does that, she's eight grade too," I explained.

"Most girls are jerks when they're kids. If you're lucky, they'll grow out of it," he replied.

I didn't like him hinting that Leslie and Janice Avery were anything alike. "Yeah, well not all girls are like that," I insisted.

"Oh yeah," he sounded mildly amused. "I forgot about your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," I growled. She much more than that to me. Whenever my sisters had boyfriends they always broke up after about a week and they didn't really care about eachother. Leslie and I are going to be together forever.

"Hey, calm it," the boy replied. "I had a friend, who was a girl, when I was younger." He didn't sound like he understood me, more that I was some little kid.

I didn't say anything for a moment, my head had been taken back to Terabithia, and wondered what Leslie would create next time we saw each other. "The teachers sucked when I was there, as well," the boy told me, breaking the silence.

"Not all of them," I said. "Yeah, my English teacher is a monster; she has her own nickname. They're not all bad, though."

"Who have you go, I wonder if I remember them," he said, sounding less interested than he was before. Whoever this guy was, he was a really sulky teenager.

"Hey, dinner," Dad erupted. This was just how he greeted me. I wonder what the boy on the other end of the line's dad said when he called him for dinner. "Get down here before it wastes!"

"I've got to go, whoever you are," I told the boy on the other end. "Maybe I'll speak to you later, then."

"Yeah," the guy on the other end grunted. "No offence, but your dad sounds like an ass. Wait," he called after me. "I want to know who your teacher is!

"Oh," I said, catching myself on the desk before I ran downstairs. The signal was starting to go anyway and the machine sounded like it cracking. "I only have two worth mentioning, Ms Edmunds and Mad Mouth Myers."

With that, I shut down the radio and ran downstairs, not wanting to keep my dad waiting any longer than I needed to. When I got down to the kitchen, I saw everyone hurrying around, grabbing their chairs and waiting for food. We don't have much money, so we have what we grow and whatever dad can buy on his way home.

After everyone sat down, without a word to me, we bowed our heads as usual and waited for Dad to thank God. "Dear Lord, we thank you for this food that you give us," he muttered. "We ask to keep our family safe in these hard times. Amen."

"Amen," we recited after him.

We tucked into our food in as close to silence as possible with my two sisters going on about some guy from their school. I wonder if they knew the guy on the other end of the radio. I didn't know his name, so it was impossible to find out. Come to think of it, since I never found out his name I probably will never speak to him again.

xXx

"Hey, hey!" I shouted down the microphone. "Wait, kid, come back!"

It was no use, he had shut off his end. Did he really just say what I thought he had said? Had he really just mentioned Ms Edmunds and Mrs. Myers? That's impossible. Ms Edmunds, surrounded by guilt and seeing where Leslie would be every day, left the town not long after what happened. Ms Myers, on the other hand, died two years ago. There's no way he could have known either of them!

Who was that guy? It didn't sound like anyone my age. And, come to think of it, Scott and the others couldn't be teasing me because they couldn't have know it was me. The quality of these things is so bad that it was difficult to recognise anyone's voice that you had heard outside. Also, he sounded like a kid. There's no way anyone at school could act that well. People pick on in groups, as well, and I didn't hear anyone sniggering in the background. None of it made any sense.

The windows lit up as another bolt of lightning struck the ground, followed by the explosion of thunder. The wind was really picking up, now, and the building felt like it was shaking. Was it going to collapse? I should probably call dad. Just as I did, the phone rang on the side.

"Aarons' Hardware, Jess Aarons speaking," I said, in salesperson mode, but not forgetting that strange little kid.

"Hey, Jess, it's you father," he growled down the phone. Dad reminded me of the kids dad, a real ogre of a man.

"Err..." I stalled, not knowing what to say. Anything could set dad off, so I needed to watch my mouth. "Hi. What is it?"

"Look, don't come back from the store. This storms getting worse and it's not safe to drive in this weather," he told me. "I can't even get to work. If anyone comes in, make sure you sell, I don't have to remind you that we're short at the moment."

He was reminding me more and more of the kids dad. Why was he on my mind? "That reminds me," Dad said. "Did you give Mrs. Jackson her radio back?"

"Yeah, she came in earlier," I told him. "This weird old man also left us a HAM radio but," I bit my tongue, not wanting to lie. "But it's broken, I haven't fixed it yet." He would want to sell it or throw it out immediately, not wanting to how on to detritus. I wanted, no I needed, to talk to that kid again, find out what he was talking about.

"Alright, what kind is it?"

"It's an old HAM," I told him. "Exactly like the one I had when I was younger."

"Don't you get distracted from your work, boy," he growled. "There are more important things you need to be doing than messing about on some radio!"

"Yes, Dad," I said, grinding my teeth together.

"Anyway, don't drive home," he finished and hung up the phone. I'm sure that most parents say "love you", or "see you at home". Not my dad.

_She loved you._ Love. That phrase... that phrase had haunted me my whole life. I would not cry, my whole world was numb. I was hugged by her dad, told that she loved me. How did I repay her? I abandoned her. I slammed my hand down on the desk. Why couldn't I have told Ms Edmunds I had something to do?

_She had loved me! _The wonderful, beautiful girl had found me important. I don't think anyone loved me, and I don't think anyone does now. I am completetly alone with a family that doesn't care. They pretended to, after she had... passed on. However, after the dust settled things went back to normal for everyone. Not for me, I'd never forget.

Mrs. Myers was reunited with her husband. She was in heaven, with him. Leslie was there, too. Leslie was there, happy, while I was left to stew in guilt and loneliness. I'd felt jealous of her many times. It was a wicked thing to say, and for what I had done I would never be reunited with her. I'd committed murder. Heaven wouldn't accept accept me with open arms. I'm just destined to fall, forever.

Dad was right, I thought, shaking my head out of itself. I need to get on with some work. I went over to Dad's desk and grabbed the broken T.V that he had been working to. Just in case the kid came back, I left the radio on full volume and every five minutes I would go back and ask if the kid was there.

There was no reply.

**A/N: Well, I hope you liked the first meeting. Make sure you review :P**


	5. Chapter 5: The Etching

**A/N: This chapter was much harder to write, and I hope it didn't get too silly toward the end. Make sure you comment and let me know. **

**Thanks to all my reviewers, you all reviewing pressure me into updating daily ^^.**

**Chapter 5: The Etching**

Why did the older boy care so much that my teachers were Ms Edmunds and Mrs. Myers? I thought about this while I ate, in silence as usual.

That freaked me out a little as well. Usually I was silent. I wasn't a social person and crowds made me feel sick. The only person I could talk to was Leslie, but I had only just met this guy and I felt like I had known him for years. I don't know what it was, but he reminded me of someone. I just couldn't figure out who.

"How's the radio, boy?" Dad asked.

I really didn't like being called boy. He never called May Belle girl, so why was he doing it to me? When I asked he just ignored me or told me that I was a boy and I should start acting like one, he told me to get my head out of the clouds. "It's good," I said, pushing my food across the plate with my fork.

"Don't play with you food," he growled. "Eat, we don't have much."

Just as I raised the fork to my mouth the phone rang. It was an old phone, and incredibly loud. "Go answer that," Dad barked before he started talking to May Belle again.

I sighed to myself, gave Dad the best glare I could without him seeing, and rushing to pick up the phone. The phone was in the hall, out of the hearing distance of the rest of them. Wait, maybe it was Leslie. Maybe she wanted to go out and take me away from my family again.

"Hello, Jess speaking," I smiled with anticipation. This was I was taught to answer the phone, and dad would raise hell if I didn't.

"Oh, hello Jess," a female voice replied down the telephone.

It was a girl, but it wasn't Leslie. If I wasn't mistaken, I was being called by my music teacher Ms. Edmunds. My breath caught in my throat and I had to force myself to say. "Err, who's speaking?" I tried to sound as cool as possible. Ms Edmunds was very, very pretty.

"It's your teacher, Jess, Ms Edmunds," she laughed. "I teach you three times a week, you should know my voice by now."

Why was I such an idiot around her? "Err..." I stammered. "What's up?" I tried to say coolly, but just sounded like a little kid. I kicked the floor.

She laughed again. "Well, I know you love drawing and your very talented," she explained. That felt good. Only two people had ever said I was good at drawing. "I was wondering if your mum and dad would let me take you to Tristitia art museum tomorrow. It will give you some inspiration."

Was this for real, or was I dreaming. I had been having some weird dreams the past couple of nights. "Jess?" she said. "Are you still there?"

"So it would be a field trip," I asked.

"Yeah, sort of," she said. I could see her face in my mind. "So, would you like that?"

"Of course," I said. I kicked myself again. I sounded like an eager little kid. Too eager. She must think I'm an idiot.

"Great," she said. Even her voice sounded like she was smiling, it was so weird. "You need to ask your parent permission, though."

"Oh, all right," I sighed. There was no way my dad would let me out, I had chores to do. I couldn't let him ruin this like he ruined everything else. I hoped that God would forgive me, but I was going to have to lie to my dad. "Give me a second, I'll go ask."

"OK then," she said, as I lay the phone on the side and waited a minute or two. When I was sure that it was a believable amount of time for me to ask my parents, I picked up the phone again. "Yeah, they said it's fine."

"All right then," she said. "I'll pick you up at ten out side your house?" Everyone knew where everyone else lived in this village, so that wasn't a strange thing to say."

"That sound brilliant, Ms." I said. Again, overly eager. She was never going to like me if I kept sounding like a little boy every time I spoke to her.

"See you tomorrow then, Jess," she said.

"Bye Ms." I replied. "Thank you!"

"Don't mention it," she laughed and hung up the phone.

I felt like laughing. This was amazing, she was actually inviting me to go somewhere! My amazing teacher was actually asking me to go somewhere. I couldn't believe it; I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

Then I remembered that I hadn't told the family. They knew I had been on the phone, I thought as I headed back down the hall to dinner, so who was it. There is only one person it could be that they would think was so normal that they wouldn't bother to check.

"Who was it?" Dad asked, gruffly. He watched me sit down.

"Oh," I said, knocking my feet together; I forgot how hard it was to lie to someone. "It was Leslie, she just wanted to know if I wanted to go out tomorrow."

"Oh, alright then," Dad said and let that be the end of it. Yes! I thought to myself. I shouldn't feel good about lying, lying is a sin, but this was an exception. I'm sure God would forgive me for this. I mean, I hadn't killed anyone.

I finished dinner as quickly as possible, for some reason eager to tell the boy I'd never seen.

xXx

I can't believe Dad couldn't fix this, I thought as I put the T.V back together. I had almost forgotten about the strange little boy when I heard a voice. It filled up the room.

"Hey, sixteen year old guy, are you there?" he said. There's no way that's an actor, that was definitely a little kid. No sixteen year old could put on a voice like that. "Anybody out there?"

"Hello again," I said, hurrying over to the radio. "Dinner?"

"Yeah," he said. "Remember that teacher I brought up earlier, Ms Edmunds."

That was exactly what I was just about to say. However, he sounded like he had news, so I held my tongue. "Yeah, I remember," I said.

"She just called up," he smiled.

My breath caught in my throat. "What..." my voice seemed to be trailing off a lot recently. "What do you mean, called?"

"What do you think I mean," he grunted, sounding a little irritated. He wasn't like normal kids, he sounded like laughing was rare for him. I kept thinking this, and it was getting old, but this kid reminded me of myself. "She called me up on the phone."

"Oh yeah," I said, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, I asked. "What did she want, then?"

"Not a lot," he said. Though, as a kid, it was obvious he was lying. I could hear a soft, scratching sound down the line.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Nothing, just drawing a picture," he said.

I shook my head; this kid draws as well, that's unbelievable. "I'm sure you want to tell me," I told him down the microphone, starting to get irritated myself at his evasiveness. I could hardly blame him, though.

"She wants me to go out with her tomorrow," he said, his voice immediately sounded happier when he said that. It sounded like he'd just received a large amount of money.

No way. I thought. No way, no way, no way. This was too much of a coincidence; I don't even believe in coincidences. "You still there?" he asked, after I didn't say anything for a minute or two. "Has the line gone?"

"It's all right," I said, running my hand through my hair. "I'm still here. It's not a line, by the way, this thing works in signals, not like a phone."

"Does it matter?" he said.

"Not really," I said. I just wanted to say something before I had to ask the inevitable question. "So, where are you going then?"

"She's picking me up in her car," he explained, his voice cheering up again. I could tell by his voice that he was smiling. The scratching sound was louder now, he must really be getting into whatever he was drawing. The funny thing was, I'd never heard that sound on paper.

"Where's she taking you," I said, drumming my fingers on the desk in irritation.

"Just the art museum," he told me.

My breath caught in my throat and my eyes widened. My mouth kept opening and closing like a broken puppet in a tv show. Nothing was coming out, not even breath. "Are you cutting out on purpose?" he asked. I wasn't listening. This was crazy, there's no way this kid was telling the truth. Maybe May Belle had got a friend over to wind me up. Yeah, that made sense. I was just about to reply and scream at them, when a site so terrifying I fell back off my chair.

"Hello?" the boy called out again.

This time I definitely wasn't listening. I was shaking on the ground. That can't be real, I must have imagined it. I wanted to stay on the ground forever, to fearful to pull myself up and re examine what I just saw. No, I've got to. This is ridiculous, I'm sixteen years old and acting like a child.

Slowly, I pulled my self back up and looked at the radio. Whatever was going on was still happening. A small face was working its way into existence on the edge of the of the radio, each line coming into existence like an invisible pencil was etching it in. It was crudely drawn. Much better than the average eleven year old, because I could tell exactly what it was. No, I could tell exactly who it was. Ms Edmunds was appearing on my radio.

"Kid!" I shouted down the line.

"What?" he said back, sounding frightened.

"Are you drawing on the radio?" I exploded, getting closer and closer to the microphone. My eyelids were so far apart it was painful.

There was a second of two of delay; no doubt he was looking around to check if anyone was watching him. "How do you know that?" he asked, sounding incredibly suspicious. "Are you watching me or something?"

"Is it a picture of Ms Edmunds?" I asked. The picture had stopped drawing now. Whatever was going on, it was happening in real time. We were connected, somehow. "Answer me!" I shouted when he didn't reply.

"Yes!" he mumbled back. "How do you know?"

"Because I can see it on the radio," I said, forcing every word out one at a time. This was impossible, he must know it as well. Nothing strange was happening his end, so he must think I'm insane or a liar.

"Are..." he tried.

I was too quick, I interrupted him. "Not your radio, my radio!" I said. He was trying to speak, but he was obviously scared. "Look, I need you to try something," I told him. "I need you to etch three dots on top of each other above the picture!"

"But..."

"What are you waiting for?" I growled.

"I don't know what etch means," he said, sounding slightly embarrassed, even in a situation like this.

I sighed. "Just do what you did with the picture," I said, exasperated. "Carve it in." What an idiot.

I heard that sound again, but nothing was coming my end. Maybe I was hallucinating, finally I had gone insane. But then, as I had expected, three dots appeared one after another on my radio. "Are they there?" he asked, when the sound had stopped.

I didn't say anything, trying to figure out exactly what was happening. "Are you there, mister?" he asked.

"Wait a second!" I snapped.

He had drawn on his radio, and it had appeared on mine. What could that mean? He knew about the phone call with Ms Edmunds... Oh my God, I thought. I never told anyone about that phone call. Not one person ever. May Belle couldn't possible know about that and Scott definitely couldn't.

Was I talking to myself? "What's your name?" I whispered.

"I can't hear you," he said, sounding offended that I had shouted at him.

"I said," getting louder. "I said 'what's your name'?"

"I told you, I'm not saying names," he said. At least he had some sense, I wouldn't tell a random person my name. Of course I wouldn't. Not without proof.

"Is it Jess?" I asked, my heart must have skipped about fifty beats, because my body went numb.

He didn't say anything. "Do I know you?" he asked. I was right, his name was Jess. There was only one explanation, and I can't believe it.

Wait... the phone call. I went out with Ms Edmunds to the museum... that's when it happened. That's why it happened. I raised my hands to my face and realised I was shaking. Was he in the past? No way, that's impossible, but how did he know?

I was the only person other than Ms Edmunds who knew about that call, and she would have assumed my parents knew. Besides, she moved. I never heard from her again. Then realization sunk in, what I could do.

Crackle... crackle... crackle. "No," I shouted, grabbing the radio either side.

"He..l..o?" the boy said.

"Listen, if this is Jess Aaron," I screamed. "If this is, don't go tomorrow. Don't go with her."

"What?" he said, his voice coming back momentarily.

"I don't have much time, the storms messing with the radio!" I shouted. "Shut up and listen. Tomorrow, Ms. Edmunds is going to ask you if you forgot anything while your looking at her house. Say you have."

"For God's sake," I shouted, eyes wet. Was I going insane? "You got to get out of that car and find her! Go to Terabithia, she'll be there!"

There was no reply. Had the line cut?

My stomach contracted. Had he heard what I said? Had I missed my one chance? Or had my mind finally left me? Probably the latter...

**A/N: Damn, that was hard to write. I hope you enjoyed it. ^^**


	6. Chapter 6: I Can Change

**A/N: Here we are, a main plot point. I hope you enjoy it, I tried to make it as close to the rest as possible.**

**Chapter 6: I can Change**

It was night, but of course I couldn't sleep. What that older boy had said to me was still freaking me out. How on earth did he know about the drawing. He definitely couldn't be spying on me. No one was outside on a storm like this. I looked out, the storm was starting to calm now.

What happened at the end of the call was the most frightening.

"_Tomorrow... Edmunds is going to... you if you forgot anyth..." he shouted at me. The signal kept going and I heard him smack the side of the radio. "Say you have!" I heard that part clearly. The sound was starting to come back. _

_I sat up in my chair, leaning closer as it would make the sound come clearer. "You... get out of the car... find her. Go …. Tera..." That was when the sound went completely._

Had my ears tricked me, or was it some sort of interference. I was lying on my back resting my head on my hands looking up at the ceiling. He had definitely said "Tera". But what could that mean? It couldn't mean what I thought it would mean, because know one knew about Leslie and my kingdom. I hadn't told anyone, and Leslie would never betray me. She was the most loyal person I would ever meet. She was my queen.

Could he mean Terabithia? Was that even possible. I mean, he had known about the drawing, and the other drawing. That was impossible as well. What had Leslie told me? "Keep you mind wide open!" she had said in the tree tops. Once I had, I could see things that know other human ever would. Was this one of those moments.

It was the way he had said it as well. It was just shouted. He sounded desperate and I could hear that every word was painful for him to say. Why did he care so much about my life? Leslie would be able to tell me, and on any other night I would have snuck out and met her, but this weather wouldn't let me. I swear, water is out to get me.

What if it was someone out to get me, who didn't want me to see Ms. Edmunds. That was the only thing it could be, right? Maybe it was a family member. No, that's stupid. They have no idea I'm going out tomorrow, so it couldn't be them. I doubted that Ms. Edmunds would have told Scott, but it sounded exactly like the kind of thing he would do.

Water... Terabithia. I grinned to myself as my eyes closed. I was lost in the Terabithia, the world lost me.

xXx

The storm was starting to cool down now, but I didn't notice. For the past few hours all I did was sit in my chair, staring at the picture of Ms Edmunds. It was definitely still there. I was too scared to blink in case it disappeared on me.

I was frightened, though. My whole body felt numb and I could hear blood swishing around my ears. I was frightened that I had lost my mind. I'm sure it mattered any more, though. Occasionally, I thought it would be wonderful to be lost in my own mind with Leslie. I would welcome insanity if that was the fruit it gave.

However, years of isolation had changed me. It had taught me that, if it can, the world will chew you up and spit you out with no mercy. I think I knew as a kid, but you don't ever understand something properly until it has happened to you. You think you do, all kids like to think they know everything, and I was probably the same, but you don't.

Years of isolation had also sharpened my brain to the world around me. Watching people had given me a real understanding of how they worked. Maybe dad was right when he said I need to get my head out of the clouds. I hadn't drawn anything since the day she fell, I just couldn't, I had not just brought my head out of the air, I had plummeted and collided hard. If that was me, would he have understood what had happened. Probably not, he was probably dreaming about Terabithia.

Had he heard me, that was the real question? There was no alternative, it had to be me, unless I was insane, which I wouldn't rule out just yet. Then again, is the sign of an insane person the fact that they didn't know they were insane. But, talking to yourself was a sign as well. I guess I'm doing both.

If he had heard me, would he act on it? Had he got enough information. Knowing myself like I do, I guess I'd be thinking about it all night, keeping myself up. However, that's now. Without the beauty of fantasy and dreams, all you can do is stew in your own thoughts.

I looked up at the clock, it was eight o'clock. No business all day thanks to this storm; Dad was not going to be happy. I then looked out of the window. The storm was cooler now, I hadn't heard any thunder for a while. Also, it was probably dangerous to let it go any darker.

I stared at the behemoth with a longing. I needed the boy to come back. Then again, if it was me I would already be in bed by now. I really didn't want to leave, but my stomach was starting to rumble and the packed lunch mum had given me was long gone. "Damn it," I growled. I grabbed my old coat and shut the lights off before leaving.

On my way home I, once again, wished I could listen to something on the radio without working myself up into a frenzy. I also felt dread for the coming night, how on earth was I going to get any sleep with both insomnia and this on my mind?

Then it hit me. The younger me had drawn that on the radio and it had occurred, like I thought earlier, in real time. Does that mean any changes he makes will affect me instantly? I leaned back whilst the full thought hit me like a train. I could change the past. I said it aloud. "I could change the past!"

I'd tried to numb my brain with enough terrible science fiction movies on T.V to know that this was dangerous. I stopped the car and put my head in my hands. "This isn't a movie, Jess," I sobbed into my hands. "Stop getting your hopes up, you idiot, she's gone and she's never coming back!"

Great, another sign of insanity. Without saying anything else to myself, you don't indulge this, I headed back home.

xXx

"Get up, boy," a gruff voice in my head grumbled. "Come on, you got chores."

"What I time is it?" I muttered, rubbing my eyes.

"It's six, you got chores to do," he instructed. I sat up and looked around my room. No wonder he was quieter than usual; May Belle was sleeping in her bed on the other side of my room. Typical.

"Yes, sir," I said, getting up.

"You got to milk Bessie," he said. That was such an awful name for a cow. My sisters had named her, apparently it was off some show. It was our only cow, and we milked for food. Being poor sucked.

Then I perked up. Soon I would be with Ms. Edmunds. As I did the chores, that thought kept me going as the hours came. I don't care what that kid said to me, he was just trying to spoil my fun. I have no idea how he did it, but it had to be a joke. No one can tell the future. That's just stupid, even by Leslie's standards.

I could have woken Leslie up, but she always distracted me with my chores. They took several hours longer when she was there, messing around, and I always got an earful from my dad. It was better to let her sleep, anyway. She should have to get up this early on a Sunday.

The hours passed quicker than I thought, and every now and again I head back into the house to check the clock in the kitchen. It was six, then seven, then eight. My chores were long and difficult, but I was used to them now. Every now and again my eye would look to the road, waiting for the car to come.

At half past nine, I rushed inside, let Mum that I was finished (Dad had gone to work), and scurried upstairs to get changed. Whenever I watched T.V with my sisters, or whenever they went out, I would see girls take a long time to get ready. I thought it was ridiculous. But, now, I get it. When you want to impress someone, you want to look good. I put on my best shirt and jacked and headed back outside. This time I was slow; I didn't want to draw attention to myself.

The half hour wait was the longest ever, and in the last ten minutes my head became full of what that boy had said. He was so wrong, she wasn't going to ask me if I had forgotten anything and I definitely wasn't going to jump out of the car to find Leslie. Leslie would be there when I got back, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

After what felt like an eternity, a surprisingly old car pulled up. Inside was the amazing Ms. Edmunds. "Hi, Jess," she smiled. "Have you been waiting for me?"

"Yeah," I said, words running away from me. Damn it.

"Your parents are OK, then?" she asked.

Oh no, I thought, what if she wants to see them? "Yeah, they're fine. Dad's at work, anyway." That's not really a lie, is it? What do they call things like this? I think it's a white lie. Yeah, that's it.

"Come on then," she smiled, tapping the seat next to her. "Get in."

I opened the door, trying to contain the stupid smile on my face. "Looking forward to this?" she asked.

I nodded and looked out of the window. In the distance, I saw a large, white house. It was Leslie's. There was no movement, and it looked alone. Should I bring her along? "Have you forgotten something?" Ms. Edmunds asked.

Everything stopped. All the trees stopped swaying in the wind. Had she just asked what I thought she had? "What?" I said, all thoughts of rudeness were gone.

"I asked if you had forgotten anything?" she repeated, looking shocked at me.

The boy was right. He had said that this would happen. He had predicted the future. "Oh my God," I muttered under my breath. This was something my parents would say, before being scolded by the other parent, when they were in trouble.

"What's wrong?"

I couldn't ignore the kid. Leslie popped into my head. That boy had not only sounded desperate, he sounded terrified. Something bad would happen to Leslie, that must be it, if I didn't go. Ignore the shocked look I was given by Ms. Edmunds, I opened the car door. "Where are you going, Jess?"

I jumped out of the car. "Sorry, Ms, but can we do this another time?" I said, urgency must have been obvious in my voice; she looked like she understood. "There's something really important I've forgotten."

She looked at me for a moment. I couldn't wait any longer. "Thanks, Miss Edmunds," I said, trying to smile before running as fast as I could at that house in the distance.

"Jess?" she called after me, but I wasn't listening any more.

The world seemed to shoot past me as I ran at the house. Without feeling anything, I stopped at their house and knocked at the door. "Come on," I said, waiting for the door to be answered. "Come on, come one!"

Mr. Burke answered the door. "Good morning, Mr. Burke," I greeted, but my voice was broken by my heavy breathing.

"Please," he smiled. "Call me Bill." He then frowned. "Are you all right, Jess? You're breathing pretty heavy."

"I ran here," I said, not ignoring the point of this conversation. "Can I talk to Leslie, please?"

He smiled. "She's gone out, I think she was looking for you," he said.

"Who is it, dear?" Mrs. Burke called from inside the house.

"It's Jess," he said, smiling at me as he did it. Leslie's parents were so kind, she was so lucky to have them. "He's looking for Leslie."

"Aww, that's so cute," I heard in reply and blushed.

"Leave it alone," he laughed back. "You're going to embarrass the poor boy."

"Thank you for your time," I said, running off.

The boy was right, again. He had said to look in Tera. That must have been Terabithia. He had known all along that's where Leslie would be. This is insane. I'd met a psychic. They aren't real. What is going on.

I ran down the path Leslie and I had carved with our footsteps to the forest that we spent out life in. I rushed through the bushed, pushing trees out of the way, before I saw someone swing. "Leslie," I called.

She had just jumped on the rope swing. Just as she had, there was a sickening tear as the rope snapped. There was a second of scream, before an even worse splash.

"Leslie!" I screamed, running and the stream, which was so high now. Without any thought, I threw myself in after her.

"Leslie," I shouted, trying to keep my head above the cold, hungry water. Just as I thought I had lost her, I saw her head in the water. "Leslie!" I swan through the water, grabbing her with my whole life.

"Leslie!" I said, hugging her and paddling toward the shore. The water was putting up a fight, pulling us further along it. I would not give up, not with Leslie in my arms. The water was strong, though, and I could feel my arms getting weaker and weaker.

"No!" I shouted resiliently, forcing myself to the edge and grabbing onto a tree branch that was hanging down into the torrent. I pushed Leslie toward the shore, holding her head up. After a fight that I started to think I would lose, I made it to the edge.

Once we were safely on shore, I shouted at Leslie's still body. "Leslie! Speak to me!" The water carried on after us as we got to the edge; it seemed to be angry at me for taken its victim. As I lay her on my back, I noticed something red on my hands.

Her head was bleeding.

**A.N: Looking forward to your responses! ^^**


	7. Chapter 7: Fallen

**A/N: I thought I would give you another chapter as the two fit together and should best, I feel, be read one after another. **

**Special thanks to MadTom for his comment, I'm glad the story is engaging. As for twists, you'll have to wait and see. I hope this lives up to the other ones. **

**Chapter 7: Fallen**

"Jess?" A voice shouted. It was Ms. Edmunds, she had followed me.

"Ms Edmunds," I screamed back. "Help!"

Ms Edmunds, reacting instantly, ran down the river, gasping when she saw the two of them. "Jess, Leslie?" she shouted. Then something happened that completely changed her. "Don't touch her, Jess." She put her jumper over Leslie after checking she was breathing. "It's all right," she comforted. "You need to run and get help, get your parents to call the ambulance."

I didn't reply, I just ran. I ran and ran and ran and ran. I could barely see where I was going, tears were filling my eyes. Was Leslie going to die? Had I killed her because I wasn't fast enough? If only I would have believed him straight away.

I slammed through our front door. "Mum!" I yelled. "Mum, Mum, Mum!"

"Jess, stop making a racket!" Mum shrieked, running through the kitchen door.

"Mom, it's Leslie," I said through broken breath. "She's hurt, she's hurt bad. Her head bleeding, she's not talking! Ring..." I tried, but my voice stopped working.

"It's all right, Jess," she comforted. "I'll ring the ambulance, you wait outside and tell them where to go." She grabbed the telephone. "I'll go and tell her parents afterwards."

I nodded frantically. Everyone seemed so good at this, other than me. Once again, I was left as a helpless little kid, but now when my friend was in danger! I didn't protect her; she's hurt because of me!

Those next few minutes were hell. When they finally arrived, I was punching myself in the bowed head. "Kid!" the driver shouted. "Pull yourself together, where's your friend?"

I immediately leapt into the air. "Come on, she's hurt!" I shouted, running along ahead of him.

"Slow down," the man said.

I ignored them, all I wanted to do was find Leslie and make sure she was OK. Nothing else mattered, nothing at all.

xXx

Mum and Dad were driving me to the hospital after I had explained what happened. Watching them carry Leslie away was the hardest thing I'd ever looked at, but I couldn't look away. All I could say, after I had explained, was three words. Three words over and over again. "She won't die" I muttered. "She won't die!"

My other sisters were in our car but, oddly enough, weren't talking. No one was talking to me, or even looking at me. May Belle, every now and again, would smile at me. I tried to smile back, but all I saw was Leslie falling.

The Tristitia Hospital was dismal. Lots of people shuffling around. We arrived at the emergency section to be greeted by a receptionist who kept watching me. "We're with Leslie Burke," Dad said.

The receptionist stared at him for a second, before typing on the computer. "Take a seat, please," she said.

"She won't die," I muttered, staring at the floor. "She won't die."

"Look, why can't we see her now?" Dad growled.

"She's with doctors," the receptionist replied, looking back at the computer.

"Where are her family?" Mum asked.

"She won't die, she won't die."

"Look, sir and madam, there is nothing I can do," she raised her eyebrow. "You're not immediate family, are you?" Dad shook his head. "Well, then you don't have immediate rights to see her."

"Look, you..." Dad growled.

"Come on, we can wait," Mum interrupted, glaring at the women. Dad squeezed my shoulder and led me to the waiting area. Once we sat down, I heard my sisters start to talk to each other before I tuned out.

I looked down at the floor. After about five minutes of no sound but a soft buzzing in my ears, I heard Dad venting. It took me a few seconds to realise he was talking to me. I looked up and saw that he was angry, not frustrated. "What were you playing at, boy?" he asked, grinding his teeth together.

"What?" I asked, after staring for a second.

"What were you doing out at a rope swing over that kind of water?" he asked. I didn't reply, I just looked at my feet. "What if it had been you? Did you think about that? What if me and your mother had to come pick you up from the morgue. You never think about anything!"

I still didn't reply.

"If you'd have thought, then none of this would have happened," Dad growled. "Maybe next time, you'll think!"

"What if there isn't a next time," I whispered, not taking my eyes off the floor and not showing my dad the 'weakness' that he described as tears. I was a man, apparently. Even though, as Leslie had said, I am a kid.

Dad didn't reply, but he looked like he wanted to blame me. Could I blame him? No... I agree with him.

I watched the light reflecting on the floor, from outside, creep across the floor as time passed. A much less entertaining pass time than watching grass grow. A growing panic was growing inside me. Usually, when I felt down, I would retreat into Terabithia. When I tried, now, I wanted to scream. What if I could never get back. I tugged on my hair.

"Dear God," I thought. "Please, please don't take Leslie away from me. I know she's not Christian, but please help her. Don't let her die." I was begging God, the fear of what awaited her for not being Christian. Would God send her to hell? He wouldn't do that!

Just as I fell into anger and fear, the whole family looked up in unison. "OK then, can the Aarons family follow me, please." It wasn't the receptionist this time, it was a nurse. I tried to look for a sign of Leslie's well being, but one didn't come.

"Come on, Jess," May Belle said. She tried to take my hand, but I snatched it away. The idea of human contact, now, scared me even more than usual. I stood on my own, and followed, ahead of my family, behind the nurse.

How long was this hall? I thought, as we continued past room, curtains drawn, tears and needles. I'd never hated the hospital more. More and more rooms until the women took a sharp turn into a ward called "Intensive Care Unit". There were six beds, all empty, bar the one in the far right corner. The bed had a doctor, a nurse and three people I recognised.

I walked over and stood at the edge of the bed, mouth agape, and wetter eyes than ever. My friend, Leslie Burke, looked so fragile in the bed. She had wires attached to her hand and some machine was beeping, steadily, next to her. "Jess," Leslie's Mum said. She jumped up.

I thought she was going to scream at me, just like Dad had. Instead, to such surprise that I froze, hugged me. "I heard what you did," she said. "You saved her life." She was crying. "Thank you so much, Jess."

I was never embraced like this. This was completely sincere. I was just too numb and shocked to react, which would probably result in me pulling away. "Is she..." I tried to sound like I wasn't terrified. "Is she going to be OK."

Instead of answering both parents, and my family, looked to the doctor and nurse. The doctor looked at the chart. "It's looking good," he said. A collective sigh of relief fell across most of the families. I, on the other hand, wouldn't be satisfied until she was awake and talking to me. "We can't, however, make any assumptions on her long term condition."

"What do you mean?" Leslie's dad asked, holding his wife's hand.

"Do I have permission to explain in front of the Aarons?"

"We can leave," Mum said, immediately.

Leslie's dad shook his head. "I think Jess needs to hear this." He nodded for the doctor to continue.

"Well, she had a nasty head injury. She was knocked on impact and cracked the bone," he sighed. "Speech impediment and partial paralysis could occur, we can't tell yet."

Leslie's mum burst into tears and I saw Bill grip her hand harder. "What we do know," the doctor said, looking at Jess. "Is that had Jess not been there, I have no doubt that Leslie would have died." The doctor could have continued. "You're a hero, Jess."

If I was a hero, why didn't I feel like one?

"When will she wake up?" Bill asked.

The doctor looked to the nurse. "Well," he sighed again. "That's the problem. Unfortunately, Leslie has fallen into a coma. When the brain gets damaged, it sometimes shuts down to repair itself." He started moving his hands around, like he was teaching a lesson. "We don't know when she will wake up.

Leslie's mum continued to cry. "We'll need to discuss this more," the doctor explain. "Can I speak to the two of you in private?"

Bill nodded and looked at me. He stared for a moment, until he finally said:"Can we give Jess and Leslie a little privacy?" Bill asked.

Dad looked wary, at first, but nodded. He always tried to look good around adults; like a 'good' Christian should. "Come on," he said to my family.

"Don't worry," May Belle whispered as she left the room.

Then I was left, alone, with Leslie. The doctor and the nurse had left the room with Bill and Judy. I didn't bother thinking about what they would be saying. I was just staring a Jess.

Her hair was wild and pushed back and her skin was much paler than usual. She looked, like I said, fragile. Like an angel with her wings snapped in two. Other than that, she was lying still, like she was asleep and, even in sleep, it looked like she was smiling. "I'm sorry, Leslie," I said, too afraid to go to her side. "I'm so, so sorry for what I've done to you."

After staring at her for as long as I could bare, I headed to the empty chair next to her. I didn't look at her, I just stared out of the window. The only concept of time I had was the slow, steady beep that was her heart beat. At least I knew she was alive.

Then I remembered what the doctor said. He said that had I not been there then Lesley would not be alive. That wasn't my own doing, that was the boy on the radio. Maybe this was why he shouted, maybe he was scared. What if... I stopped, thinking of what this mean. What if the boy had known that she would die had I not been there. If I hadn't of listened to him, like I planned to, and gone with Ms Edmunds Leslie would be dead.

After a while passed, I heard the people come back into the ward. It was the rest of my family. My Dad was carrying a coke. "Come on, Jess," Dad said. Jess? "Visiting hours are nearly over; we need to give the Burkes some time.

I looked back at Leslie. "No," I said.

"Come on," he said, grabbing me by the shoulder. Not a force, but... was this a comfort? "I got you a coke, you can drink it in the car. We will come back as soon as we can, but you've been here half an hour and the doctors need to run some tests and do their jobs." I looked into his face, were his eyes wet? "Leslie can't get better unless they do their job."

I looked back to Leslie, said another silent prayer, and nodded at him. He didn't let go of my shoulder as he walked me to the Burkes, who thanked me again, and to the car.

The journey home was numb. I had just seen my world collapse and didn't want to let go of that image of Leslie in case it was the last time I saw her. I shut my eyes, trying to seal her into my memory. I didn't touch my coke; I didn't deserve a treat.

"We're home," Mum said, looking back. I still had my eyes shut. "Jess..."

"Leave him," Dad instructed. "I need to talk to him, take the girls inside."

I looked up and saw Mum nod. "Come on girls," she said, hopping out of the car. "Let's give them some time."

Once they had gone, Dad got out of the car and knocked on the window; it was a signal for me to get out. I kept my eyes on the floor, not wanting to meet anyone's eyes, and followed him. Dad took a deep breath, probably preparing to scold me again. "I know how you felt about her, Jess," he told me. "What you two have is..." he stopped. "It was special."

I didn't look at him. "I'm sorry for scolding you earlier," he said, rubbing his hand over his face and into his hair. I looked up, this time, in shock, but still didn't meet his eyes. Dad didn't apologise, he never ever apologised. "It's not your fault."

"Yes it is," I said, almost turning my head all the way round to avoid his gaze.

"Don't you think that," he grunted.

"It's all my fault. I didn't help her in time, I could of done," I said, eyes becoming so wet I couldn't see.

Dad didn't say anything for a second. "Come here," he said. I looked up, to see his arms out, inviting me over. My mouth fell open. Before I knew it, I had ran into his arms, sobbing into his chest.

"You were right, I shouldn't have let her go," I said, burying my face in Dad's chest. I don't remember him ever hugging me. "I deserve what this, not her."

Dad kept silent, but I felt him squeezing me. "If she dies, will she go to Hell?" I asked, dreading the answer.

This time, Dad was the one to choke up a little. "I don't know much, Jess," he explained to me, in a soft voice I barely recognised. "And I definitely don't know a lot about God. What I do know is, God doesn't send little girls to hell. You don't need to worry about that."

"But what about me?" I asked, still having my head in his shirt. "It's my fault, so will I go to Hell?"

"Don't talk about Hell, son," he said, tapping my back. "That place isn't meant for people like you and Leslie. You're not evil: You're a good person. You could have died rescuing that girl. You cared about her so much you put everything else at risk," I felt him shake his head. "That's not the kind of person who God damns, you hear me?"

"Now, just you keep your head up," he said. "You got to be strong for her, so we can all get through this together."

I nodded into him. "Now drink your coke, I had to pay for that!" he didn't push me away, he waited for me to grow tired.

We just stood there, locked in an embrace that I didn't recognised. I didn't think about anything else, not Leslie, not the boy on the radio. All I thought of was this hug and what it meant. For the first time in my life, I felt like my dad loved me.

"Thanks, Dad," I muttered, leaning back and drying my eyes with my sleeve.

He just grunted like he usually did; I guess he was back to his old self. What he didn't realise was that I'd never felt so comforted. I guess my dad did love me.


	8. Chapter 8: Release

**A/N: The hardest chapter I have ever written. I tried to get Jess emotions to come out in a rage and continue. It was difficult and I don't know if it works. I hope so. When I read through it seems to work. I'm look forward to your opinions. **

**Also, this is the end of the first plot section. I have written up these chapters before publishing them, so I could release them daily. The rest of the plot needs work, so it might be a while before updating. I'll be as fast as possible. **

**Lastly, thank you, reviewers! **

**Chapter 8: Release**

I had got out of the house as soon as possible today; at around nine o'clock I left. All I wanted to do was talk to that kid. Today was the day I would find out exactly what he'd done. I didn't feel any different, and I had been affected immediately. Had he done nothing? Had... I done nothing? Now that I think about it, would I have listened to some guy down the line. I tried to remember, but most of memories, bar Leslie's face as she smiled back at me in the rain, were completely gone.

My car was playing up lately, and I pleaded with it not to die on me.

How was I going to get the kid to believe me about who I was? I wouldn't reveal anything about myself. To my misery, I didn't even reveal how I really felt about Leslie. I was always withdraw and silent. If I'd have known what I do not, I'd never had shut up around her; she would probably hate it. If he hadn't saved Leslie, and was me, I didn't want to talk to him/myself. This was getting so confusing to think about.

I would have to reveal something only I could know, which would definitely be difficult. What would be something only I would know? Terabithia should do it, but I would think Leslie would have told her parents. Maybe. It's weird, but the child me was so different from what I am today it's difficult to predict what I would do.

I looked at the clock, it was half past nine. I never found out when Leslie fell, but it would have to around ten o'clock to eleven, maybe. My heart started to get tighter as I thought about it and I almost lost control of the wheel.

Just as I almost fell into thought, something struck me: that weird old man who gave me the radio in the first place. He seemed to be really happy about giving me an old, broken radio. Also, for being so broken, it sure was easy to fix. He didn't seem like he was from around here, either, even though he said about people down in the centre. What centre was this? I'd never heard of one nearby, we aren't rich enough. His accent wasn't Virginian, it was completely plain.

He also didn't dress like anything I had ever seen. Red corduroy was rare, especially for a full suit and cap, and there was no way you could find that sort of stuff around here. His watch looked like it was gold. Was he rich? It would make sense. I'm not sure if money buys happiness, I could be a tramp with Leslie and feel on top of the world, but poverty definitely leads to depression. Also, who gives away a thing like this away for free? I know for a fact he could sell this for big bucks to collectors.

I thought about that for the rest of the journey and, before I knew it, I was at the shop. I don't know how I was good at art when I was younger, my mind could easily be mislead. Then again, when I was into something, like the radios, nothing will distract me until I get the job done. Selective focus, that's not rare.

I got out of the car, and ran at the shop. I fiddled around in my pocket for the key and put it into the lock. Just as I got inside I got struck by a strange feeling in my head that brought me to my knees. I felt my eyes widen as what felt like water pored into my brain. Feelings, everything I didn't know before.

When I came to, I was lying on the floor. It felt like I'd been asleep; my mind was groggy and I couldn't access it. Did I just have a migraine? It didn't really hurt, it just felt like my brain was full. I pushed myself up and looked around the office. "Did I just faint?" I said aloud as I pushed the door open. I looked up at the clock. "No way," I said.

It was half three, I had been out for over five hours!

Wait, the radio. I sprinted to the radio and dodged the desks as my made my way to mine. For some reason, three thirty was suddenly incredibly important and if I didn't go on the radio right now, I would miss my chance forever. I hate not understanding my own emotions.

I turned the power on and, the second I did, I heard. "He... Hello?" a timid, sad voice muttered into the radio. "Is the sixteen year old guy there? It's Jess."

Seriously? I thought. He just came on, and, inside, I knew that. "What happened," I asked.

"You knew," he whispered. Strangely, he was talking to himself more than me. "You knew what would happen to her. I got out of the car at the last minute?"

"What happened?" I shouted, grabbing either side of the radio again. "Is she OK?"

"No, she's in a coma..." he muttered.

Shouldn't I know that? I mean, it is in the past. Why was it like I was looking back to be stopped by a locked door. "Will she get out of it?" I asked, hating not knowing my own past when it was so important.

"They think so, but they don't know if she'll be OK," he said. His voice sounded strained, he must have been crying. "How did you know..."

"Why do you sound so sad?" I asked, annoyed. "She's not dead!"

"What do you mean?"

I guess this was it, this was the perfect time to convince Jess that I was him, but from the future. This was going to be tough. "Trust me, Jess, things could have been a lot worse," I said, thinking about what I was going to say.

"I know, the doctor said if I hadn't rescued her, she would have died," he said, but that didn't make him sound happy. "If I'd have just listened to you and not gone to Ms. Edmund's car, I would have stopped her from swinging."

"What happened?" I said, ignoring my past feeling sorry for himself: I'd lived five years with that guilt and I'd heard it before in my head.

"I saw her fall," he explained. "I watched her fall into the water." That's odd, I thought. That sounds exactly like my recurring nightmare. "She seemed to hang there."

He didn't say anything for a second, obviously lost in thought. "Hey!" I grumbled. "Come back to me!"

"Sorry," he muttered. "Anyway, I ran and dove in after her and swan her to shore. That's it really. Mum called the ambulance."

This was so weird. I was asking my past to explain memories that I had already experienced, it made no sense at all.

"Are you an angel, or something?" the boy asked, out of the blue.

I almost fell off my chair. "Me?" I rubbed my face with my hand. How ironic: me, an angel. "No, I'm not an angel."

"You just, well... you predicted the future and saved Leslie's life," he mused. "You don't even know her. That doesn't sound normal."

"You're wrong twice," I told him. "One, I didn't predict the future. Two, I know Leslie, trust me."

"You don't know her," he argued. "She only moved here last year and you're sixteen. How on earth could she meet you?" He stopped for a second, probably trying to remember my other point. "You did predict the future," he said. "You said exactly what Ms. Edmunds said and knew exactly where Leslie would be."

"That does seem very unlikely," I leaned on my hand. "Have you any ideas on how I could possible know those things?" This was good, I had to make the younger me think that there were no other options before proving it to him.

"I have no idea, other than you being an angel."

"Stop calling me that," I growled. "Are you an angel?" I quipped.

"No."

"Well, there you go," I said, running my hand through my hair. "There is only one option, Jess, there is only one way I could know what would happen to you without looking into the future. The only other way is doing the opposite." I sighed, there was no going back now. "The only way is if I looked back to the past." I waited, was I too young to understand that?

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Apparently I was. "Can't you figure it out?" Come on, Jess, you're smarter than this.

"Figure what out what?"

I sighed. "I've never told you my name, have I?" I lead him on. He didn't reply; he was waiting for me to continue. I must be getting sick of the questions. I took a deep breath. "My name is Jess, Jess Aarons."

I did it. I told him. Hopefully he would realise that he hadn't told me his second name so there was no way I could know exactly who he was. "What?" he whispered.

"My name is Jess Aarons," I repeated, though slower this time to let the name sink in.

There was a long, tension filled pause before: "Are you messing around?" he asked, whispering now. "Is this some sort of joke?"

"What do you mean?" I asked. I think I might be able to make this work.

"You know that's my name, don't you," he demanded. His voice had got louder because he had got closer to the microphone on his end. "You're playing me for a fool."

"Yeah, I do know it's your name," I nodded to myself. "However, I'm not playing you. I'm serious. My name is Jess Aarons."

He didn't say anything. Then I heard his chair scrape along the floor; he was getting up! "I'm going to go now," he said.

"No, wait!" I said, I had pushed too hard. Damn! "The girl's name is Leslie Burke."

"You must have know that already," he told me. "You knew about Ms. Edmunds."

That's not going to work. "I know one thing, though," he said. "One thing that not one person on this earth knows except for us."

"What?"

"I know what happened with you in the rain," I said. He didn't reply, but I knew that he knew exactly what I was talking about. "When you watched Leslie walk away with P.T, which stands for Prince Terrian, in her arms. You'd never been so happy and..." I paused, not wanting to say it. "You knew, then, that you never wanted to leave her side. Jess, you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her."

He paused, then breathed into the microphone. "How do you know that?" he whispered.

I sighed. It wasn't his fault, no one would believe the truth. "I'm Jess Aarons. I don't know how, but this is me from the future talking to you," I said, not bothering to think how he would react. "I know everything about you because I am you, but sixteen years old."

He didn't say anything. "I realised it was you a while ago," I said through the silence. "That's why I was so desperate for you to get out of the car."

"Where's Leslie?" he asked. "If this is the future, where's Leslie, I want to talk to her."

Sharper than I thought, even as a kid. "That's the thing," I said. "Why do you think I needed you to hear me?" I paused. I guess he didn't want to answer any more of these questions, because he kept his mouth shut. "Jess, in my future there was no Leslie."

"Where was she?"

"She died, Jess," I sighed, hating saying those awful, poisonous words. "She fell into the water, but I wasn't there to help her." He tried to interrupt, but I kept on. "In my past, you weren't there. You went with Ms. Edmunds because I couldn't tell you not to." I must be confusing him, because I was starting to get flustered.

"You always had a crush on Ms. Edmunds..." I told him. "You wanted to spend the day alone with her. You thought that it was a one in a lifetime thing and Leslie would be there tomorrow..."

"How do you know that?" he growled in interruption.

"Aren't you listening to me?" I growled, voice getting louder and more hoarse. "I already told you, I'm in the future, you're in the future!" I stopped, keeping my cool before I started to mince my words any further. "You didn't want to share Ms. Edmunds, so you left Leslie. I left her, and she went to Terabithia on her own."

I heard Jess gasped. "You never told anyone about Terabithia, did you?" He must believe me now. His mind was going to fight it, but it would sink in. "It was always your place to get away from the world with Leslie."

"This can't be real," he muttered. "Leslie must have told someone."

"You know that's not true," I said, feeling sorry for my younger self. "These five years without her have been hell, loneliness... claustrophobia in my own head at being trapped and not being able to help."

"I don't want to think about Hell," he replied.

That had been the hardest thing to accept when Leslie died and it had been when I Dad started to show that he loved me. "She wouldn't go to Hell," I explained. I had gone through this when she died, but my Dad had convinced me otherwise. "God wouldn't send her to hell, she's more wonderful than anyone who has ever lived."

"My Dad said that," he said.

"Our Dad, he's still alive, here," I think he was getting it.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at Dad's shop," I explained. "Aaron's hardware, I work there now."

"Really?" he replied. "That doesn't sound like me, I'm terrible at hardware."

I nodded. "Yeah, when you were painting you commented on Leslie being a writer because of her parents," I could hear him about to gasp. "She said that you didn't have to be good at what your parents did because you aren't good at hardware."

I heard him put his head in his hand. "This can't be happening..." he said.

"Well, it is," I replied.

He got it. "When Leslie died, you spent all you time fixing radios," I explained to him. "There was nothing else to do, and all you wanted to do was occupy your mind so you could stop crying." I sighed, remembering those terrible days. "You even told May Belle about Terabithia, but she got bored after about two months, and so did you. It just wasn't the same."

"I told May Belle?" he replied, shocked.

"Yeah, you felt like it was what she would have wanted," tears were rolling down my eyes now and I had to plug them with my sleeve. "You felt like it was the only way to keep her alive."

There was a long pause, which gave me time to think about what I had just said. After building the bridge, I told May Belle. At first, it was nice not to be alone. However, as the days went by I kept seeing shadows. I started looking for Leslie, calling out to her. Eventually, it was too painful to go anywhere near that place: I stayed away.

"Are you OK?" he asked.

"Yeah," I sniffed, wiping my eyes. I hadn't spoken to a real human like this, about Leslie, since she died. All of these emotions had been boiling up inside me for five years. "I hope you realize how important that girl is."

"I do," he assured me. "Will she be all right? I mean, the future must have changed your end."

"I don't know," I said, exasperated with the problem I'd been facing. "All the memories I had of that time are gone. It's like a blank space. All I remember is watching Leslie run off into the rain...

"That was the last time I ever..." I couldn't breath through the freely falling tears now. I gulped hard and pushed on, regardless. "That was the last time I ever saw her. In a way," I had to force this out, get this out of my mind, once and for all. I couldn't take these feelings any longer. "I'm glad. If I wanted to have any image of Leslie, that was the best: She looked so happy."

"The doctors said she died instantly," I told him, putting my head in hands. The torrent of emotional strain within me was becoming rougher. The younger me wasn't replying. "I wanted to see her again, once more. I thought I'd see her at the funeral. Laid out so I could tell her I was sorry... but her parents had cremated her."

"But I wonder, to this day, did she have enough time to blame me? Did she wonder where I was? Was the last thing she thought fear?" I could feel anger rising out of me. "She shouldn't have been on her own! I should have fucking been there!" I screamed, standing up and slamming the chair over with the back of my arm before falling onto all fours.

There was no sound but the drip of my tears and the hammering of my heart in my ear for the a while, until his words filled the room. "You were there," I think he was tearing up, but he explained anyway. "You didn't abandon her, I nearly did. If it weren't for you, I couldn't have saved her."

I looked at the radio, shocked at what he had just said. He was right, I had changed it. I didn't abandon her. He said it himself, I rescued her! "That's true," I said, shaking my head before rolling onto my back.

"You've never told anyone these things, have you?" he asked. "You've kept it inside, because you know that Leslie was the only one who cared."

I nodded. "Yeah," I told him. "You know what it's like. That was the worst thing of all. We had nothing before Leslie, and she came and showed us the world. Then, in one fell and foul swoop, it was taken from us. She was taken from us, and she took the world with her."

"She is the world," he sighed. "I don't know how you have lived without her..."

"I haven't," I sighed. "This is no way to live. It doesn't get any easier, whatever you believe, when someone special dies, you never really get over it."

Crackle... "No," I shouted, I was finally talking to someone, I couldn't let that go! "No!"

"It's... all right," he said, through the breaking in signal. "The... gnal will come... ack, just wait... I'll be there."

With that, he cut out. "Damn it!" I said, smacking my hand into my Dad's desk.

What is wrong with this thing? Why does it always cut out exactly when I need it? As I got up, I became shocked at the wisdom of my past self. He was exactly right, if it weren't for me she would have died. However, in my past she was still dead. I can't remember her being alive! What's going on?

I slapped the radio; I need to say more. Was it my system? I hopped up to look for Dad's tools, maybe I could fix it. I couldn't let this go, it was liberating. I had got my emotions out in the open, and I felt different. It was so easy to talk to myself, as it should be. I got up to get the tools of Dad's desk when I saw... well, I saw nothing.

Where were Dad's tools?

**A/N: There you are. Thanks for reading up to this ^^**


	9. Chapter 9: Gone

**A/N: I said I was going to postpone these chapters, but I have this one written already so I thought I would release it a bit early. I hope it's up to the other ones. **

**I'm going to go with the films version of the dad's name: Jack. I mean, having three people called Jess in one story is pushing it a bit.**

**Enjoy! ^^**

**Chapter 9:** **Gone**

I didn't speak to the older Jess again that day; the signal was completely. I couldn't believe it, but there was no alternative. He couldn't have known about Leslie falling, Terabithia and what I thought when I watched her run through the rain.

He'd grown up without Leslie. The thought made be want to sick. How had he made it through the day... No, how I had I made it through the day. It was hard enough going a night without talking to her, little own go five years knowing she'd never come back. That must have been worse than what it was like before she came to me. I couldn't let Leslie out of my sight.

The day past by slowly, as I was wishing it through. Every second was like an hour when I was waiting to see Leslie again. I must have been excited because I woke myself up, usually Dad gets me up to make me do my chores. How early must I be up. I rubbed my eyes and looked at the clock. "What?" I said, voice trailing off.

It was seven o'clock. Dad hadn't got me up really early to make me do my chores, he had let me have a rest instead. "Jess," a small voice whispered. "Jess, are you up?"

"Yeah, I am," I told her, getting out of bed.

I completely forgot. It's Monday! I have school today. A day with Scott, all the teachers and being on my own again was frightening. I always had Leslie to look to for company; I never felt alone when I was with her.

Jess had mentioned that. He had been so sad and desperate thinking about what Leslie was thinking when she fell. Leslie had seen me before she fell, so even if... even if she does die, I won't have to feel that because I was with her until the end. I'd hate for her to be alone when for death. She didn't deserve it.

"What's wrong?" May Belle asked.

"Nothing," I said, rubbing my eyes. "Can you leave? I need to change." She nodded and shut the door behind her. For a brat, she was definitely being nice today.

After I had finished, I headed downstairs. When I heard my name, though, I stopped. I shouldn't eavesdropping, but I needed to hear it.

"He's obviously fragile at the moment," I heard Mum say.

"Don't you think I know that?" Dad growled back. "You should have seen him yesterday. I never knew kids could be so emotional."

"So why do you want him to go?"

"As much as I hate his school, he can't stay here and mope," Dad explained. "He needs to occupy his head, he needs something to take him away." There was a long pause. "Oh, you should have seen him yesterday, Mary."

"Why?" she asked. I heard her sit down.

"The poor kid has adult feelings in a kid's mind," he told her. "He's actually trying to cope with real loss, not just a kid falling out with his friend, real loss. And he blames himself, Mary. He thinks it's his fault for not protecting her."

I heard Mum sigh. "I hope she makes it."

"So do I," Dad said. "But he has to go to school."

"Can't you distract him?" Mum asked.

"You know damn well I can't," he replied. "We don't have the time or money. I have to work all the time at the shop and put food on the table." I heard something hit the table. "It's not his fault, it's mine."

"What do you mean?"

"I never treat him right," he replied. "He's lonely and sad and I've let him be like. Remember at the hospital, I scolded the kid. What kind of father am I?" I heard him stand up. "Have you got his breakfast ready?"

"I'll pour him some cereal," Mom said. "Jack, what if she doesn't pull through?"

"We can't think like that..."

I stopped listening after that. My parents were talking about my feelings, about whether or not to send me to school. They weren't talk about May Belle, or the others, they were talking about me! "Jess!" Mum called up the stairs. "It's breakfast."

"Thanks, mum," I said, walking through the door and making a start on the cereal they had laid out for me.

"You're welcome," she said.

As I ate cereal I was brought back to the crushing reality. I remember what the doctor said: partial paralysis. I think that means you could not be able to walk; that's what I heard my eldest sister say. I could have paralysed her...

"When are we going to go and see Leslie?" I asked, shovelling another spoonful of cereal into my mouth.

"We'll go after school," Mum replied. "Listen, Jess. She won't be able to talk to you for a while, you do know that, don't you?"

"She's in a coma, mum," I muttered, avoiding my parent's glances. "She'll come out of it eventually."

I caught my parents looking at each other out of the corner of their eye. "Just be prepared, thing's don't always go well," Dad said. "In fact, things can get pretty bad pretty quickly. Remember that, and remember it was you who saved her."

I didn't reply to that, I just stared out of the window. "Enjoy school today," Mum said. "I've packed you a lunch. Don't forget to loo after you sister."

I nodded.

xXx

Why weren't Dad's things on his desk. Come to think of it, the whole shop looks different. Not huge things, but pictures that were there were gone and some stock was missing. This wasn't good. Had we been burgled? No, it couldn't be that: the more expensive, which wasn't that expensive, equipment was exactly where it was.

I picked up the phone, dialled my number and waited. Ring... ring... ring... "Hello?" my Mum answered.

"Hello, Mum," I said. "It's Jess."

"Hi Jess," she said. Mum sounded different: her voice was a lot deeper than usual.

"I need to speak to Dad quickly, there's something up at the shop," I said, drumming my fingers on the table.

There was a silence. Not a normal silence, an awkward silence like I had said something awful. "Are you there, Mum?" I asked, when she didn't say anything at all.

"Is this a joke?" she whispered.

I frowned. "What do you mean?" A joke, where's the joke in asking to speak to your dad?

There was another really long silence. "Have you bumped your head, Jess Aarons?" she said, with what sounded like poison in her voice. I must have done something pretty bad; she only used both of my names when I had. This sounded serious.

"You know well your dad's dead," she growled. "Be back for dinner, and don't call like this again." She hung up the phone on me.

Time seemed to a slowed down and I lost control of my fingers. The crash of the phone hitting the ground woke me from my dreadful epiphany. "Oh my God," I whispered. No one would joke like that, so it must be true. The only explanation was... Lesley not dying that day changed something huge.

I shut my eyes, trying to remember what happened. My memory was a dirty, fragmented space at the moment. I had two memories contrasting, like I was caught in the waking stage of a dream. On the one hand, I remember Dad growing up, getting old, helping May Belle. However, I also remember him not being there. I remember coming home from school to Mum on her own.

The shop was different now, too. I guess I work here and Mum owns it, that's the only way it makes sense. I don't understand, if the past was changed then why can I still remember what it was like before. Since the younger me changed something, those memories of Leslie's death were gone, so why did I have them?

I needed to speak to him. "Hello, hello?" I shouted into the microphone. "Come on, you've got to be there."

Nothing. No response. I probably shut it off when the signal went. Damn me!

He'd be back tomorrow. Something must have happened and I needed to find out what, first. I needed to get home, fast. Locking up the rest of the rooms, I shut off the radio and sped out of the door. "Where's my car?" I asked aloud, looking frantically around. My old car, that I had come to respect, was no longer there. Instead, Dad's car was.

Oh crap. "Oh no, oh no," I said. Dad had given me that car, but now he wasn't around to do it. What else will have changed? I started the car and tore off down the road.

The journey home took longer than ever; this car could barely move faster than me. "Damn it," I shouted. "Move it!" Slamming my hand on the side of the steering wheel.

xXx

I hated the school bus trip. I invited May Belle to sit next to me as I was too frightened of being on my own. I had relied on Leslie, now she wasn't there and I felt more alone than ever. All I saw, when I shut my eyes, was Leslie in the hospital bed. Without the older me to talk to, I retreated back into my shell.

"Jess," May Bell said, looking over to me. I was by the window, watching the trees run away from me. The Terabithians probably hated me; I had hurt their beloved queen.

"What is it?" I grunted, sounding more and more like Dad every time I spoke. "What do you want?"

She handed something to me. I frowned; she had given me her Twinkie. "Here you are," she said, smiling.

I looked at it in my hand. This reminded me of Janice taking her Twinkie, and Leslie. Janice had been through more than a lot. I suppose you don't really know how anyone else thinks. Shutting my eyes, stopping the thoughts of the careless pair of Leslie and me, and pushed it back into her hand. "It's all right, May Belle," I said, leaning my forehead against the window, feeling the vibrations shake my head. "You have it. I owe you, anyway, for not protecting you either."

I'm useless. I couldn't help my sister, I couldn't help Leslie and I couldn't, really, help my future self. I'm so glad I spoke on that radio. Had I not, I was destined to the "hell" he had gone through. He wasn't lying, that voice was so full of dread and misery that it was difficult to listen to. I wonder what happened when she died? No... I don't want to think about it.

The next thing I knew, I was in class, staring at Leslie's empty seat. Staring at her empty desk. I could hear the dull muttering of my teacher, Mrs. Myers, but she sounded like she was very far away and under water. "... Aarons." I heard. The whole class looked at me, but I didn't know until she said it again. "Jess Aarons."

I couldn't speak and I couldn't look away from her desk. I thanked God that she hadn't died. "Jess Aarons," Mrs. Myers said, but not in her usual, dragon like voice. It was soft, much like my dad's and, exactly like with Dad, the shock caused my to look at her. "Come outside, I need a word."

I nodded, mechanically, and followed her outside.

Once I was outside, I leaned on the wall and waited for the scold that was on its way. "This must be hard for you," she said, sighing. I looked up, mouth agape. "Of course I know," she said, answering what I was just about to say. "I'm her teacher, I know everything about my students."

I couldn't respond. "She'll be all right," she said. "Let me tell you, in this world there is not one thing more terrible than a hurt child." Nothing, no response. "I did hear what you did, as well."

I looked up at her, she was smiling at me. "That was an incredible thing to do," she praised. "Not many adults possess that kind of courage, you should be proud of yourself."

It's not incredible. I squeezed by fists so hard I could feel the skin on my palm break. I'm not incredible. She's incredible. I hated this, I hated being treated like the good guy. I wasn't. I wanted to scream that at her, but the words just wouldn't come.

"She was special, an extraordinary girl," Mrs. Myers said, looking off, away from me. "As teachers, we don't meet someone like her very often. And, when we do, we know what they are. The idea of her hurt is a terrible thing," she shook her head. "And if it's hard for me, I can't imagine what it's like for you."

Was this really Mrs. Myers? Was this the same women that struck fear into the whole class's hearts with one glance? She must have been replace. "You don't have to reply," she comforted. "I know you'll be distracted, anyone would be, but just try and listen in lessons. All right?"

I nodded quickly. "Go on, get back in," she said, pushing the door open for me.

After that, the rest of the lesson passed by in a blur. Why was everyone being so nice to me? I didn't deserve it; I did what anyone would do if they met Leslie. She was the one who was hurt. If I was such a hero, then why was Leslie lying a coma. A hero wouldn't have let that happen. If I was a real hero, Leslie would be sitting right next to me. They didn't know I was going to abandon her, I hadn't told anyone about that part of the story, and the only reason I didn't was I realised how scared my future self was. It had frightened me into staying. Heroes don't need to be frightened into saving people! That's not a hero, that's a coward.

My lessons were spent doodling pictures of Leslie. However, every time I finished them, I got angry that they didn't look like her and scribbled over her. She was impossible to draw, every time you tried you missed her spirit. No artist, not even the great artists, could draw Leslie. My break and Lunch were spent in the toilet, sitting with my head in my hands waiting for the bell to ring. I should be outside helping May Belle and protecting her, but I couldn't bare to see the places Leslie and I had sat. I kept thinking she might die or be in a wheelchair.

"Please, God," I begged. "Please don't let her die, don't let her be hurt because of my stupidity. Punish me instead!" I buried my face further into my hands. "I was the one who did it, why does she have to suffer because of me?"

I hated everyone treating me like a little hero who need to be rewarded for his good deed. It wasn't fair. I deserved to be shunned, shouted at, punished for what I had done. Not this. I couldn't help but wonder what Leslie would do if she was in my position, but I realized that she wouldn't be. Leslie would never leave me like I was going to leave her, she wouldn't even consider it.

After a music lesson, which I couldn't join with and Ms. Edmunds did not make me (she smiled at me when I entered the class, but nothing more), I headed to the bus and brought May Belle to sit with me. "How was your day?" May Belle asked. It sounded like Dad had told her to keep an eye on me, or something like that.

"It was fine," I lied, not wanting to talk to anyone about it.

xXx

I didn't mention anything at dinner about what I had said to Mum on the phone. It was silent, as ever, and I couldn't help but look around at how different the house was.

For a start, there was barely any furniture left, we must have had to sell a lot to get by, and a lot less food on my plate. The spot where Dad had set was empty, without his chair. If you didn't know that he once was there, you couldn't tell that there had ever been a father in this family.

Should I feel guilty? I had killed my own father! There was nothing worse, in the world, than that. I don't know what I felt. No, I can't be blamed for this... why was that so easy to admit? Maybe it's because I saved Leslie. It wasn't my fault, yet. I didn't feel anything, not a damn thing. I couldn't believe it and it was very difficult to rationalise. Perhaps I was numb because, at this point, I could change this. But what if I can't...

Now, how was I going to find out what happened? I couldn't ask Mum again and she would never believe the truth. Mum's out of the question. My other sisters wouldn't care and were too old to give a damn about me. That left only one person... May Belle. She was perfect for this. That wasn't the real problem, though. What the real problem was not drawing attention to myself. I had to stop May Belle from telling Mum.

Why did I have to do all the thinking? I'm not that good at it.

"May Belle," Mum said, as we finished. "It's your turn to clean the dishes today." She hadn't looked at me once during dinner and she was still avoiding my direction.

That's helpful. "I'll help, Mum," I said. This would put me more in the green with Mum.

She just nodded. I actually felt bad for what I had said earlier, but there was no way I could have known. My memories came back in blurs and they were incredibly difficult to access. It felt like I had been seriously concussed.

"Thanks, Jess," May Belle said, as I stood by her washing the dishes.

"Don't worry about it," I replied, whilst everyone was in the room. "I don't have anything else to do, anyway. It's Sunday night."

We washed in silence for a moment, as the rest of the family cleared out of the kitchen. After about five minutes, and checking to make sure there was no one near enough to hear, I started my question. "May Belle?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember what happened to Dad?" I asked. May Belle was still very young, she was only nine. Like all little kids, she always wanted to prove herself. She didn't say anything at first, and I had to tread carefully here. I didn't like upsetting May Belle, but I might be able to do something about it if.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked, looking down at the dishes. May Belle was very close with Dad, so she must have been hit the hardest. I don't remember Dad dying, I just remember sadness and the fact that he wasn't there. Was that significant?

Damn, she was curious. This wasn't good. I had to play to her age. "It's just..." I've got it. "I just don't think you would remember, you were very young then. You probably don't remember anything..." I left the edge hanging.

"Yes I do!" she argued. Got her.

"Really?" I said, feigning shock.

"Yeah!" she growled. "He was in a car crash," she explained. "Someone crashed into him on the freeway!" She must have had a long time to cope with it, or was very annoyed with me, because her voice didn't sound cracked or sad.

I had to shake my head to stop me from getting distracted at the horrific thought; I couldn't afford to be distracted now that I had my sister's attention. "That's pretty impressive," I said, running the my plate under the tap. "But there is no way you'll be able to remember the date."

Shouldn't I be able to remember the date? Surely I'd been told it over the years? Time was just a mess at the moment, because of me.

"Yeah, I do!" she said, this time perking up slightly. I assume it's because she thinks that she had impressed me. "It was the sixteenth of April!"

The sixteenth of April? Leslie had died on the fourteenth of April, that was a date that I would never forget until the day I died and beyond, which means that, since days go by at the same rate, the younger me was currently in the fifteenth of April. Oh shit... I checked the clock, it was ten past eight. By the time I got to the shop, the younger me would already be asleep. That means I couldn't talk to him until tomorrow!

"Jess?" May Belle said, clicking her fingers in front of my face. I ignored her.

I had school tomorrow... should I miss it? No, there was no point disrupting the family because the younger me would be at school at the same time. Also, I would probably be visiting Leslie straight after... Oh no! What if it happened before then?

"May Belle!" I snapped, getting her full attention with her first name. Now wasn't the time for thought, I was bordering on panic. "Do you remember what time it happened?"

She paused for a second. "He went out at night, so about eight to nine."

"Oh, thank God!" I said, all the air coming out in one enormous sigh.

"What?" May Belle whispered, mouth agape.

I said that out loud, didn't I? There is no way she would tell Mum about this. I had to try. "Can you do me a favour?" I asked. "Can you not mention this to Mum?"

"Why not?"

"She's got enough on her mind at the moment," I explained. "This will make her think about Dad again. You don't want to make Mum sad, do you?" She shook her head. "Thanks, you're a good kid."

She smiled at me in response.

In the silence that followed, I looked around the room. Like I had said, there was much less in the house than before. The clutter that once littered the house was replaced by emptiness. One thing I noticed was that there were no pictures of Dad. I couldn't see one. When I was younger, there was loads of pictures of the family, mostly of Dad and May Belle, but it looked like they had all be cut out. Dad wasn't there any more and I think I know why...

Mum was feeling like how I felt after Leslie had died, she just wanted to get Dad out of her head. She didn't want the sadness that was there in remembrance. Unlike myself, however, she had removed any trace. After getting rid of the paints, I tried to spend all my time remembering her, regardless of how much it hurt to do so. I always felt like if I forgot Leslie, then she would really die.

I tried to remember my new past. Every now and again my memories would cross over. The day Dad had given me a car was clear in my head at first, but the more I remember that day the weirder the memory got. All I had done that day was fix radios, which I had to do to help Mum at the shop.

I still couldn't remember Leslie. Had something else happened to her? I couldn't remember anything.

Damn it, I had a whole day to wait and worry. If I didn't do this properly, then Dad would be gone forever!

**A/N: Well, there you have it. It's more of a connection between the two sections, I hope it's worth reading.**


	10. Chapter 10: Together

**A/N: Here's chapter ten and chapter 11 is in writing at the moment. I'm nearly done with that one. I hate it when I find something I enjoy and I have to wait ages to finish it, and I've done this with my other stuff (which I'll be going back to after this), so I made a vow to finish this in one go. I hope I stick to it.**

**Anyway, enjoy. Can you let me know if you're still enjoying it/ if it's going downhill if it does, please. Thanks ^^**

**Chapter 10: Together**

"Come on then, Jess," Dad called upstairs. "We're going to go now!"

Finally, I thought. I had been waiting for about an hour, trying to draw. It was impossible; my hand wouldn't stop shaking. He didn't have to call twice, the second I heard him I leapt from my bed and tore down the stairs. Dad was waiting by the door, twiddling his thumbs. I'd tried to go on the radio, but I was getting no response for some reason. Maybe he'd be on when I got back.

Dad didn't look right. Usually, he was gruff and to the point. He was a 'no mess' kind of guy who was the rock of the family. Today, on the other hand, he looked like a wounded lion. His eyes were glazed and he was obviously deep in thought. His hair was sticking up, slightly, and ruffled. "Aren't Mum and the rest of the family coming?" I asked.

He shook his head. "We don't want to overwhelm you," he said, avoiding my look. What was wrong with him? He never said things that cared about my feelings. I can't remember him ever saying something like that. It was ever since he had seen me with Leslie and he had gone outside to talk...

I followed Dad to the car and sat next to him in the car. We didn't speak in the car, but Dad did keep opening his mouth, then closing it a second later without saying anything. Once we reached the hospital, all he said was: "We're here."

The hospital was just a dismal as before, but I felt different. I still blamed myself, and every now and again I would feel awful, but after hearing what could of happened I felt relieved as well. Dad, after checking in at the desk (which was a different one, this time), led me through the corridors on auto pilot. He knew exactly where he was going. It's a good thing he was with me; I wouldn't have a clue where to go if I was on my own. This place was like a maze.

When we reached the ward, Dad stopped me. "Remember what I said, Jess," he explained. I frowned. "You have to be strong for her. Don't freak out..."

"I'll be all right, Dad," I said, trying to smile.

That wasn't strictly true. Now that we were outside, I felt like I was going to be sick. "I'm not going to ask," he said. "I'll leave you alone when you're in there, I'll go and get something to eat. Do you want me to leave you with her parents?"

I had already thought about that. Whilst I didn't want to, I thought that they had the right to talk to me if they wanted to, since it was me who put them through this. My feelings weren't important any more. I'd lost that the moment I got into Ms. Edmund's car. "Yeah," I said. If you kept sentences short, you didn't have to be emotional.

Dad nodded. "I'll just come in with you now," he said, leading me into the ward.

Once again, the room was empty bar one bed. Flashbacks of yesterday hit me so hard they almost took me off my feet. Leslie was falling again, I was crying, I was walking through the hospital, I was begging the silent Leslie to forgive me. All of these were falling together into one thought; it was painful.

Leslie's parents looked up at me, together. They smiled. "Hello Jess," Bill said, nodding at me. "Hi Jack."

"Hello," Dad grunted.

We headed closer. There were no doctors this time, just the five of us. I was about to reply, when Leslie caught my eye. "I don't have to be a genius to realize this," Judy smiled at me. "Come on, Bill."

"But..." Bill said, looking from his wife, to me, to Leslie and sighing. I couldn't blame him, I wouldn't want to leave Leslie's side for anyone.

"We can see Leslie more, we don't have to follow the visiting hours, Jess does," Judy said, squeezing her husband's hand.

Bill nodded, after a moment of thought. "Let's go get something to eat," Dad said. I said a silent thanks to him, he knew exactly what I wanted. "I'll let the doctor know that Jess is in here." Bill and Judy nodded at Dad.

"We'll see you in a bit," Bill said, squeezing my shoulder when he left me.

The chat went on for longer than that, I'm sure, but I was fading in and out of consciousness. One moment I was completely aware of the outside world and, the next, I wasn't. It felt like just a minute ago I was at school, and just an hour ago that Leslie had fallen. Leslie...

There she was, lying there alone in the hospital bed. Her eyes were still shut, but her hair looked more combed today: her mum must have combed it for her, it was still messy at the fringe. Leslie's spirit needed to get out somehow, maybe it was fighting its way through by messing up her hair. Her skin was also pale, and I'm sure she would shiver if she were awake. Taking a deep breath, and checking no one else was in the room, I walked over and sat beside her.

"You'll never guess what happened, Leslie," I said, summoning up the courage to speak to her. Obviously, she didn't reply, but staring at her peaceful face and talking to her was comforting and made me feel like this was just another of our games in the forest.

"I got this radio off my dad," I explained. "He thought no one would be on it, but there was one person. I didn't know who he was, but he told me that you were at Terabithia." Still no reaction, but, if she were awake, she would have said something like "wow".

"Yeah," I said, answering my image of her replying. "How could he know? That's what I thought. He told me you were going to fall. It's because of him that you're still alive..." As I said this, I stared at her. She looked in between death and life. People lie to you about death, they don't look like they're asleep when they are laid out. All the life is gone, you couldn't think that they were dead. Leslie was different, she was somewhere in between. She was so alive, so much more than me, that seeing her like this was a shock. However, there was still something there. It was so hard to explain.

"It was me, from the future," I said, still staring at her shut eyes. "It's impossible, I know, but he knew things that we never told anyone." I stopped. "He said something, something horrible..." I sighed. "He said that he had grown up where you had died..."

I was begging for a response, now. I had to know she was still alive, that the future wasn't set in stone. My future self said he couldn't remember Leslie, maybe that means she'll die. Is that it? "You're fighting, aren't you," I smiled. "You wouldn't lay down and be beaten. You're in there, right now, battling with the dark master."

I smiled at the thought of Lesley dancing in Terabithia. "That's what you're doing, you inside Terabithia, protecting the Terabithians," I stopped. "Am... am I there?"

Dad had told me not to cry, but it was getting harder every second. "You can't leave me," I begged. "You're too important."

What if she died? Would this be the only way I ever saw her again? "Leslie..." I whispered. "Your hair is so messy," I tried to laugh. It didn't work. Before I knew it, my hand was reaching out to her. "Let me help," I smiled. I pushed the strands of hair out of her face and behind her ear.

Feeling her skin against my hand brought me to tears, they were unstoppable. I felt connected. "What if you'd died? I would have had to grow without you," I rubbed my face, trying to rub the tears away before they left my eyes. "The future me sounded so sad, I know he wanted to see you, one last time."

I could feel the connection, now. For some reason, I could feel the pain that my teenage self could. "He said that he wished he'd been there for you," I whispered. "He told me that he was scared you missed him, that he wasn't there for you when he needed you most. I said that I should have been there..."

"I shouldn't have got in the car," I muttered, putting my head in my hands.

"Remember the rain?" I asked, after coming back to the real world. "We came back to the house with P.T?" In the future, I wanted more than anything to tell Leslie how I felt. I wanted the chance to say it before that chance went forever. What if this was that chance. "Your face, as you turned back and ran, was the last time I ever saw you. You looked so happy."

"I said..." I gulped, hard. I found my future selves emotion winding into mine. "I said that I was glad that it was that image that I lived as I grew up. You were always happy, Leslie, not like me..."

I looked at her hand as I continued. "I was an idiot," I laughed, but it was hollow. "Remember on the bus? You wanted to look at my drawing and I pulled away, annoyed with you. I was so, so stupid... I'm so glad you knew, you offered me gum and didn't give up on me. Even then you didn't give up on me."

I couldn't take my eyes off her hand. Trying not to think about it, worried this was the last time I'd even see her, I reached over and took it in my own. The second I did, my heart swelled up and I needed to take a deep breath. "I gave up on you..." I wept. "I left you for a teacher, when you wouldn't give up on me even when I didn't want to be your friend." I gulped again, trying to force words out before I couldn't speak any more. "I'll never do that again," I promised. "Never, I will never abandon you again. If you come back, you'll have a protector in me..."

"That's my duty as your king," I whispered. "A real wouldn't do this to his queen. I don't deserve you as a friend." I could feel the spirit of a second person inside me, these were my words... but they were his as well. We were connected by more than a radio, and the more I spoke the more I felt it.

"When you wake up, I'll do anything you want," I said, squeezing her hand gently. "We need to make a safer way to get across the water, though..." I thought about it. "When we go back to Terabithia, we'll build a bridge... or something like that, so you'll never be hurt again."

I could feel my throat tightening. There was something I really wanted to tell her, but I couldn't... it was too hard. Not speaking again, I sat there in silence, beside her. Hand in hand, with all else unimportant, everything pointless except this connection between me, my future self and Leslie...

xXx

I couldn't think about school, whatever little concentration I usually had was gone completely today. Time, however, didn't have the decency to speed up. It dragged on like it had a vendetta against me. Perhaps it did, maybe time itself had affection for Leslie: she was definitely worth it. Maybe I had offended it by cutting her life short, in youth. That might be it, I certainly deserved it.

I didn't go home, I couldn't until I had stopped what happened to Dad. I had ruined it for Mum and, now that I gave it more thought, I couldn't bare to look at her until I changed what happened to her.

I was crying... suddenly, and inexplicably, I was crying. It was so bad I had to park the car at the side of the road. Something was coming into my mind, a new memory from the past. I couldn't see it yet, it was like an incomplete film at the moment. Had Jess done something? Had I actually changed something. I felt detached, I felt like my mind and spirit was elsewhere, with somebody else.

Then, as instantly as this feeling came, on image did. It was still, but I could see it clearly and feel it in my head. "You're holding her hand," I said, shutting my eyes and falling into it. "I'm holding her hand as she sleeps." I put my head in my hands. "Thank you, thank you, I can feel her again."

Then, almost as abruptly as the connection was made, it disappeared. "You told her," I whispered. "You told her how I felt, you told her how sorry I am..." I couldn't believe it, she knew. "She must of heard me," I reasoned. "People hear things in comas..."

"No!" I shouted to myself. I even made myself jump. "I can't be distracted now!" Jess was at the hospital and I couldn't risk not being there when he got back. What if he decided that he didn't have to wait for me? What if he thought everything was better now? Dad would be gone forever and I owed it to him, as my dad, to rescue him, even if he didn't love me as much as the rest of them.

I drove with the intensity of the sun, determined to reach the shop as fast as possible. When I got there, my body was leaning forward so far that my chest was touching the steering wheel. I fell out of the car, not bothering to lock it behind me, and sprinted at the shop. "Come on, come on, don't let me have missed him!" I muttered, fiddling around with the key until I finally unlocked the door.

Without wasting time, a vaulting over the now empty stand in the middle of the room. "Come on, come on, come on," I muttered. I tried to push the plug into socket, but kept missing. "Damn it!" I shouted. "Get in there!" I almost broke the prongs before I finally got it in, and that would have been really bad.

"Hello?" I said into the microphone. I waited. "Hello?" I repeated. To be honest, I was hoping it would be like last time: the second I got on he was there to. But no, it wasn't. Now that I think about it, I would still be at the hospital with Lesley and wouldn't have gone on the radio when I got home from school. I was safe, for the moment.

Now, all I had to do was wait...

What had happened at the hospital that made me feel this way. All I can remember was holding Leslie's hand and incredibly intense emotion. I think... I think I was, somehow, connected with the younger me. I think he had felt all the emotions I had over the five years and they had struck him in one moment. He was feeling how I did, and he told Leslie what I had felt. He had promised her something... but I couldn't remember what.

I really wanted to ask him exactly what happened. I wanted to quiz him until he couldn't take any more questions and was exhausted from having to relive a memory over and over again. But I couldn't. As important as it was for me, I could ask him later. I couldn't waste any time, not even a second. May Belle's memory, despite what she had said, wasn't very good, so I had no idea of the time it happened. However, Dad had taken me to the hospital. I don't know how I was sure of that, I couldn't remember it, but it definitely happened.

Nothing else mattered now, I had to save my dad.


	11. Chapter 11: The Plot

**A/N: I definitely feel that this isn't as good as the rest, but the chapter needed to happen. I hope you'll forgive me. **

**Here we are, this is the third last chapter of the story. I hope you enjoy these last sections. **

**Enjoy. **

**Chapter 11: The Plot**

"Hello?" A voice said through my radio.

Thank God, finally. It had been two hours... I had been sitting in the chair, watching the clock, for two, whole hours. It was six o'clock now, and I was so surprised by the voice I nearly didn't answer. "Jess, is that you?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, sounding a little confused that I was asking. "I just got back from the hospital visiting Leslie."

I know, I thought. "Is Dad in?" I asked, biting my lip so hard I split the skin.

"Yeah..." he said. That was the second time I praised God; I wasn't too late. "What's wrong, should he not be?"

This wouldn't be easy. "Jess, you've watched time travel films, haven't you?" I was only asking so I got his full attention, knowing the limitations of mine.

"Of course," he said, sounding more confused every second. "You know that, though..."

There we are. "Well, you know when someone changes the past, it can affect the future..." I muttered, allowing him to take in each word. I still hadn't figured out how I was going to stop Dad going out.

"Is Leslie there?" he asked, perking up immediately.

"No," I sighed. "I still remember nothing about her." Bar the moment in the hospital, though if I brought that up he would never listen to me; he would not be able to stop thinking about Leslie if I did.

"Damn, does that me..." his voice sounded incredibly frightened now; I had never heard so many emotions in one conversation.

"Jess, focus!" I snapped. "We'll get to Leslie in a minute, right now there's something more urgent, more important."

"More important than Leslie?"

"Yes," I replied. "Leslie's in the hospital at the moment, she's not going anywhere. Dad, on the other hand, is."

"Where's he going?" he asked.

"I don't know, but I know what happens when he leaves..." I paused for a second, taking a deep breath... followed by another. "I don't know what happened... but something about Leslie surviving caused a big change in the future, much bigger than anything I could have anticipated." He didn't reply, but I could almost feel him moving closer to the microphone. "It's Dad... like I said, I don't know how but... he died Jess."

"What?" he shouted. "That's impossible, why would Leslie being alive cause Dad to die?"

"Keep quiet, your in the house!" I snapped.

"Everyone's outside doing chores. The family has been leaving me alone and not forcing me to do anything since what happened to Leslie," he explained, dismissing what I had said.

"You have to get into the habit of being smart all the time," I retorted. He should know this... "I can only help you if you stay sharp. You got to focus all the time! What if Dad had walked in?"

That could work... but I knew the movies much better than the younger me. Bad stuff happened when people knew about the future. Besides, what if Dad thought I was mad and took the radio away from him. He'd be sealing his fate. No, I couldn't let any member of the family about the radio. "You mustn't let anyone know about me," I instructed.

"I haven't told anyone," he replied, sounding exasperated. "When did you get so smart? I don't think like you!"

"Loneliness changes people," was all I said on the matter.

"We're getting distracted!" I shouted, pulling myself back into this world.

"What should I do?" he said, quieter this time (taking my advice), but sounding just as emotional. "Do you have some sort of plan, or something?"

"No," I whispered. "I have no idea what to do..."

"What?" he growled through gritted teeth. I could hear them grinding. "How can you say that and then insult me! You don't even know how to save Dad!"

He was right, of course. I stopped, out of the two of us... the younger me was much more thoughtful. "Do you have any ideas?" I asked, reaching out on a whim.

"Are you serious?" he growled, sounding angrier by the second. "You're the sixteen year old, you should be smarter than me!" He stopped... "I haven't asked... how did it happen?"

"Car crash," I explained, trying to remember exactly what May Belle had told me. "Apparently, he was out late on the Highway..."

"Why would Dad be on the Highway?" he interrupted.

I had been wondering this, myself. Our house was a long way off the major roads and with the self contained universe that was our town, there was no real reason to go anywhere else. Especially for our family, that was constantly short of money. It didn't make any sense. "I don't know, I had to ask May Belle what happened."

"May Belle?" he gasped. "Have you lost your mind? May Belle can't even remember breakfast."

"I wondered about that," I said.

"So..." he said, speaking through the silence. "When does it happen? Was it recently?"

"For me... no," I answered. I wasn't really listening to the younger me any more, I was trying to plan. To figure out the perfect way to stop Dad driving. Planning the past was a lot harder than it sounded, and it couldn't have sounded easy. "For you," I whispered. "It happens today..."

"What!" he shouted, not being able to contain himself this time.

"Keep it down!" I growled.

"If it happens today, you should have something!" he continued, ignoring me. "You should have some idea of what to do!"

I wonder what Leslie would do in situation. "I wish Leslie was here," he muttered, as if he had read my mind. It didn't surprise me, we were the same person after all. We should react a similar way to the same situation. "She would probably know what to do."

"I know..." I muttered. "But, thanks to us, we don't. We'll have to stumble on without her for the moment." I put my head in my hands. "We've got to think of a way to save Dad."

Wait... he was going driving late. "Jess..." I said, sitting up. "Is everyone still out?"

"I think so..." he replied. He knew, I could feel it, that I was on to something. "Why, have you thought of something?"

"Maybe..." I replied. "You know that knife Dad has... the real sharp one?"

I thought for a moment. "The one that Granddad gave him when he was a kid?"

Perfect, he remembered. "Yeah, that's the one... do you remember where it is?" I really hope he did, because I had no idea.

He waited for a second before replying. "I think so, I think it's in his room..." he said, humming as he thought. He hadn't figured out what I was thinking, yet. It would work, though, if he did everything exactly as I told him. It wasn't a very Christian ideal, nor a particularly moral one, though I think God would forgive me. "Hey! Have you thought of something."

"You have to be quick, no one must realize what you are doing," I said, ticking the boxes and making sure it was working in my head. "Listen carefully..."

I explained the plan. It wasn't very advanced, and it wasn't anything impressive, but as long as he did it right, it would work. There also was a concealed plan, and this was the section I was proud of. I'd now learnt that, regardless of how simple something was, it could make some dramatic happen. I had to learn something, something important.

xXx

By the end of Jess explaining the idea to me, I was shocked. "I can't do that to my Dad's car!" I gasped. "There's no way."

"Yeah, it's not pretty..."

"We're poor, Jess," I argued. "You know that as well as I do! Dad doesn't have the money to get another tyre!"

When Jess had mentioned the knife first, I was terrified. However, when he had finished the plan, it was a little anti-climatic. All I needed to do was slash one of Dad's tyres, right on the bit closest to the middle, then put the knife back exactly where I got it. "I can't break his car, he'll kill me!"

"Are you stupid, or something?" he growled, furious. "If you don't do it, you won't have a dad."

I took in these words, one at a time, before replying. "There's got to be another way..." The more I thought about it, the more I hated the idea. Taking a knife to something that my dad bought after he had been so nice to me the last couple of days felt evil. Not just bad, it felt evil.

"If you don't do this now," he said, still growling in anger, "and I mean right now, then Dad will die and that will be that." I bit my lip. "Is that what you want?"

"No, of course not," I sighed.

"You've got to do it now, then," he said desperately. "Don't forget to shut off the radio. Do everything exactly as I told you, and you'll be fine."

"See you later," I replied, reaching for the 'off' button.

"Good luck," was I heard, before shutting it down.

Without wasting any time worrying about what would happen if I was caught, I ran out of the room. I bashed my shoulder on the door frame, but ignored the pain as I headed to Dad's room. Dad kept the knife in a special box, like I said, it was a present from Granddad. It was important to him, because it was the only object he had of his Dad and he spent a lot of time cleaning it after Granddad had died.

He hadn't directly shown me where he had put it, but he had called May Belle in a year or two ago to tell her the story. May Belle was too young to remember it, but I was eight and, oddly enough, its hiding place was clear in my head. It was in a chest of draws next to his bed, the second one down. I had to summon up courage to even put one foot in Dad's room when he wasn't there; he had told me never to go in his room.

Without thinking any more, I ran in and headed straight for the draw. "Come on," I growled. "It's got to be in here," I opened the draw and pushed loads of stuff out of the way. "Come on!" I continued, repeating each time I moved something out of the way. "Yes!" I gently cheered, raising the strange, red box that I knew contained Dad's prize possession.

After opening the lid I gasped; saying it was a sharp knife was be grossly underselling it. It was slightly curved, with the same colour handle (I'm not sure of the proper word) as the box it came in. On the handle, it had the word "Aarons" carved into it crudely. Remembering what my future self had told me, I tidied the draw and shut it. Then I put the knife and box in my pocket and headed outside.

Dad's car was sitting away from the house. "Right," I said, psyching myself up. I got the knife out and held it in my hand. I always felt that having a weapon would make me feel in control, and it would be cool. It wasn't, it just made me feel like a sinner... I headed to the car, taking steps as they came, apologising in my head to Dad and praying that no one walked around the corner.

Jess had told me that I had to get the wheel that was the furthest away from the house door, the one that you couldn't see the moment you left our home. He had stressed that part was essential. I had wanted to ask why, but I was taken by the shock of being asked to take a knife to my dad's property. You just don't do that! I wished I had asked, now, because it was really bothering me. "Oh well," I muttered, speaking to myself. "I'll let him do the thinking, and he'll let me... slash Dad's tyres..."

I kept squeezing the handle in pulses as I headed for the back right wheel. I looked at the wheel. Jess, who seemed to know how to do this, told me that you could only break it at one point. He told me that the outside 'bit', the rough bit, was too tough. I had to get the middle bit, the bit that looked a lot smoother on the side. I knelt down, hidden behind the car, and stared it.

"Would it pop like a balloon?" I had asked him.

He had told me that it will sound like someone sighing, heavily. How did he know all about slashing tyres? "Come on, Jess," I said to myself, pressing the the tip of the knife against the tyre. "Come on... just do it."

Then, in one fell swoop, I brought the knife into the side of the wheel. _ Whoosh! _Jess was right, it was like a heavy sigh. I didn't wait to listen. Acting on auto pilot, and like the older Jess had said, I sprinted back into the house. I couldn't watch and 'admire' my work, because if I was caught I was screwed.

After carefully hiding the knife in its box and putting it back exactly where I had found it, Jess had told me to memorize everything in the draw so it wasn't obvious, I ran back into my bedroom. "I've done it!" I said into the microphone, after booting the thing up.

There was no reply. "Hello?" I frowned. "Are you there.

Nothing. "Damn signal!" I growled.


	12. Chapter 12: Finding Meaning

**A/N: This chapter took all day to get right. I kept running out of ideas, leaving it, then coming back. I'm not going to take a break, I'm going to write the finale now and release it on the tenth, in English time. **

**This chapter turned out well, I think, so enjoy it.**

**Chapter 12: Finding Meaning**

My future self didn't come back onto the radio; the signal went completely. I did as I was told though, and waited for Dad to come back in. I waited for shouting, shouting about the car, but it never came. Everyone came back, one after another, and no one mentioned it. Had Jess meant this to happen? Why would he want no one to notice the car? It just didn't make any sense...

Night dragged on and I watched the sky darken. Conveniently, my older sisters had both slept over at other people's houses, probably to escape this house for a bit. This made things a lot easier, because the two of them were unbearable.

I knew that whatever was going to happen would happen at around eight, knowing this, however, made it even worse. I thought the clock was broken, at one point, because the minute hand just wouldn't move.

Jess hadn't told me why, he didn't tell me what he was thinking until he lost his temper or got too emotional, I had to listen out for the reason for why Dad was leaving for the Highway. He had said not to fall asleep until something had happened. He had said not to blink until something had happened. I had no choice but to trust him; he had been right every other time.

Nothing happened all day, it was quieter than it had been in a while. Dad, as usual, came in and tucked May Belle in. "Good night, sweetie," he whispered in her ear, pulling the cover over her.

Now, usually he would look over to me (who would usually be drawing) and tell me lights out. He looked over, then put his hand in front of his face and sighed. He came over. "Are you going to draw?" he asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

I shook my head. "I'm tired," I lied.

He nodded. "Well, good night, Jess," he said, ruffling my hair. "See you in the morning."

Wait a second, I thought. Had Dad just done the boy equivalent of "tucking me in". I think he had... what there something wrong with him. Jess's words came back to me when he was explaining the plan.

_I could almost hear the cogs in my future self's head. "If this experience has taught me one thing," he mused. "It's that everything, however small, is important." He paused for a second. _

"_Why do you say that?" I asked, pushing my fringe out of my eye. _

"_Everything is important, now," Jess explained. "You need to remember that. Everything..."_

"_I get it," I grumbled, hating him treating me like a stupid kid. "Everything is important."_

"_I don't think you do get it," he argued. "You need to take in everything around you. I know it sounds silly, but you need to notice everything and try and change nothing. Don't interrupt May Belle when she's talking, don't step on a bug. Try to do as little as possible today, you've seen enough films..."_

"_Yeah, that bug could end up the president of the United States," I joked. _

_"This isn't funny," he growled at me. "There is nothing more important that today. I know this must be scary, but time itself is resting on our shoulders. I can only tell you what to do," he sighed. "If there is a mistake, then on your head be it. All I can do is instruct you from this here radio." _

"_Just watch what you do, and memorize everything in case I need to ask you about it," he sighed, he was doing that all of the time now. "Especially whatever happens past eight o'clock."_

"_Got it," I replied. Then he got back to the details of his plan. _

Dad never 'tucked me in'; this was a change that I needed to remember. I stayed still, waiting for everything to go quiet upstairs. Once I heard footsteps going down the stairs, I knew I was OK. Now I had to be silent enough to get to a point where I could listen without disturbing May Belle. She usually took about ten seconds to fall asleep, but I wasn't going to move until I heard her breath become deep.

I usually killed time, when I couldn't sleep, by hiding under my cover with a torch, drawing. Grabbing my notepad and pencil, which I always kept beside my bed, I began to draw. Usually I drew knights, fish, anything. Tonight, I was going to draw someone else. I put my pencil to the paper and began to draw the radio, Leslie and the boy on the radio. Before I had even drawn a single line, I heard voices outside.

"This is it," I whispered, rolling out of bed as slowly as possible and tiptoeing to the window next to my bed. Why were people outside. I looked out to see a strange scene, it was Dad and Mom, but they looked angry: angry at each other.

I pushed the window open a tiny amount when they looked away. "Keep your voice down," Mom hissed, "you'll wake the kids!"

Dad glared at her. "You don't get it, do you!" he growled. I tried to look at this like my older self would. I needed to find out exactly what was wrong, and to do that I needed to figure out what they were thinking.

"It doesn't make any sense!" she retorted.

"I been thinking about it since the girl was hurt, when I shouted at him," he explained. Of course, it was about me. Everything seemed to be at the moment, it was always my fault... Wait! Don't get distracted... listen to what they were saying.

"Jess has always been a loner," Mum argued.

"Have you ever wondered why?" he replied. "I sure as hell haven't. Not until recently, anyway. You aren't born lonely, Mary, you become a loner." He put his head in his hands and I could see him pulling his hair. "It's been my fault all along."

His fault? Why would it be his fault? "He's not that tough to understand, he's just a boy," Dad said.

"What do you mean?" Mum asked, but I whispered exactly the same thing under my breath.

"We never made him feel like he was worth a damn thing..."

"Stop swearing, Jack," Mum growled in interruption.

"Why? Will I get in trouble with God?" he retorted. "I deserve it!"

That was when I realised how similar the two of us were. At that moment, I actually thought of him as just an older version of me. He was my dad, but now I felt like he was completely. "You don't deserve that," Mum sighed.

"You didn't let me finish," he grunted. "We never got him anything, we always gave him his sister's stuff instead of giving him something he could be proud of, we never spoke about his drawings..." He put his head in his hands again. "I used to ignore him, no wonder the boy's so interested in that girl. He's never had a friend before."

Mum didn't reply to this one. "He always disappeared with Leslie," Dad continued. He was venting now, rather than talking. "Didn't you think it was weird, they were so far out playing around?" Mum shook her head. "He was trying to escape."

He was exactly right. That was what was so incredible about Leslie, she completely took me away from my life and plunged me into her world. Dad understood me...

"No kid deserves to feel like that," he sighed. "Even that damn race, remember he trained for that thing? Every morning he would go running. He was trying to be good at something because I always made him feel worthless. He was trying to prove that he was worth something. When he lost, I was disappointed. That must have made him feel worse."

"You did what any parent would have done," Mum told him.

"No..." he replied, his voice sounding harsh and angry again. "No I didn't, I did the exact opposite." He took a long pause. "What if he'd have gone on the rope-swing?" he whispered.

Mum said nothing, but I think she had been wondering that; I know I had. "Leslie might not have jumped in to rescue him," she would of done, no doubt about that, "or, if she had, she might not have been strong enough to save him, or she could have died as well..." he trailed off after that. "I would have had two dead kids to answer for..."

I gasped, a silent but sincere gasp. He knew what it was like...

"Like I told you, he blames himself," Dad told Mum, as if reading my mind. "He's had to grow up too early, he's become a man on his own and he's not ready for it all. I'm just useless!" His voice getting slowly louder.

"You're not useless," Mum told him. "It's not your fault. It's no ones fault, bad things just happen."

"Yeah, you're right," Dad agreed, though he didn't seem happy about it. "Bad things do happen, but never to the right people. Jess loses his only friend into a coma that she might not wake up from, Bill and Judy might lose their kid because I forced Jess to have to run from his own home..."

"You haven't done Jess any wrong," Mum explained. "We've been poorer than usual, you've had to whole family first."

"My kid shouldn't be second best," Dad said, voice rising into shout. "My own flesh and blood should be the only thing that matters. An eleven year old shouldn't be the victim for his father's problems... am I doing the same thing to May Belle as well?"

Dad sounded so familiar. He sounded so much like my future self. The same forced voice, the same hidden problems coming out in anger... it was like listening to the same person, but my voice was higher. Both Dad and Jess had been through so much...

"You getting louder again, Jack," Mum repeated, in the same hiss. "What if you wake May Bell, you know what she's like when she's woken."

"I'll be as loud as I want," Dad growled.

"Stop being selfish!" Mum retorted.

"Yeah, I know," Dad sounded like he was barely holding back a scream. "I wish you'd have told me that earlier, before I ruined Jess's life!" His head fell into his hands for the third time. "I call him 'boy'... is that any way to talk to your kid?" Dad then looked up. "I can't take this," he said, turning.

"What do you mean," Mum asked in confusion as Dad trudged over to the car.

So this was how it happened. Mum and Dad had got into a row, once again over me, and Dad had left... He was going to the highway because he wanted to be as far from the house and his problems as possible. Just for one night, maybe, just so he could ignore his problems rather than be reminded of them. Well, he couldn't leave now, not after my handiwork. For the first time tonight, I felt glad of slashing my dad's tyres.

"Jack, listen to me!" Mum called when he didn't answer. "Where are you going? What are you going to do?"

"Out," Dad said, vaguely and in a voice that oozed anger.

"What?"

"Just out, don't wait up," he said, before getting in the car and slamming it behind him.

Here we go, he was going to discover what happened. Dad started the car, tried to reverse but, and it was really obvious now he was driving (he must not have seen the way the car was leaning because of the dark). The car was leaning, dramatically. "What the hell?" I heard. It was more of a murmur because of the fact he was in the car, but I could piece together what he had said from the sounds I heard.

He opened the door. "Oh," he gasped. "Damn it, the wheel's flat."

I thought Mum would be shocked and outraged. However, she looked both relieved and angry. Had I done it? Had I stopped him from dying? "You were going to leave," she hissed in fury. "Don't come back into the house! Stay in there and think about what you were going to do!"

With that, she walked back inside and shut the door. Dad, looking shocked, collapsed back into the car.

Dad felt exactly like I did. Jess had explained to me how guilt was crushing. It made every day become a battle to get through it. I understood Dad, now. He never meant to treat me like he did, it was just money. When I had felt bad, just after I came home from Leslie, he had comforted me. He had made me feel better when I felt like all was lost. I couldn't leave him like that. But what if Mum caught me going outside? She didn't want Dad to come in, and now was the only time that I could properly talk to him. I had to sneak out.

That wouldn't be easy. May Belle was still asleep, but there was this one floorboard that always creaked that could wake her up.

Carefully, I walked across the room. May Bell, oddly enough, didn't even stir. She must have been tired out from doing all of my chores. That was good, someone must be on my side. I headed out the room, not even considering shutting the door behind me (the creak was so loud it would rock the house), and snuck down the stairs.

As I snuck down the stairs, I was stopped by the sound of sobs. Was that Mum? I was about to lean around the stairs and look into the kitchen to see when I realised that Mum would see me and stop me. Thinking about everything was really starting to hurt my head, I just wish it would stop. I was looking forward to when Jess would tell me on the radio that everything was fine, Leslie was with him and Dad would not have died.

As I crept down the stairs I became more and more confused. Was I going to keep talking to him forever? Oddly enough, that would be terrible. Even though he had helped me, saved Leslie's life and was about to save Dad's, I hated the idea of having to know what my future was constantly. Having to plan everything out and knowing the consequences all the time. I would never get any sleep, I would never have any fun, or have a life again.

I pushed the front door open as little as possible, and sucked in my gut to fit through. I was outside now, I could afford to run to the car. Dad couldn't see me, yet, because the car was facing the other direction. He was still there, though, so I could talk to him.

I knocked on the window. "I'm not coming back in," he grunted, then he looked over. "Oh, it's you."

I opened the car door and sat beside him. "Why are you up," he paused, "son."

"I heard you and mum, Dad," I explained. I sounded more and more like my older self every second, it was weird. I must be picking that up as I spoke to him.

"You shouldn't have been dropping eaves," Dad said, looking ahead and more annoyed than ever, before he realised what I had said. "What did you... what did you hear?"

"Everything," I said, not holding back. We needed to talk this out, whatever it was.

"You shouldn't have been listening," Dad started.

"I don't blame you," I said, interrupting him.

Dad didn't say anything. Seconds passed; so many that I started to count them. Then, just before it reached a minute, he began to speak. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Nothing's your fault," I told him. "You haven't been a bad dad, you've just had other things on you mind."

"You're just a kid, you don't know what you're talking about," he grunted, keeping his gaze facing ahead.

"I do," I said, taking a deep breath. "You weren't nasty to me, ever. You're a dad, you have to think about money and keeping us from, you know... becoming homeless." I looked at him. "You made me feel better."

When I didn't tell him why, he finally looked at me. "What do you mean?"

"Remember when you told me to wait after the first day of Leslie's coma," I reminded him. He nodded. "I felt awful, Dad. It was all my fault, I had sent my best friend to hell because of my stupidity, I'd..." I trailed off. "But you spoke to me. You convinced me that it wasn't all over."

"It was me who told you that you were stupid," he said. I could see that he was holding back tears, and I was glad, I hated it when he was upset. It made me feel really uncomfortable.

That was true. But, thinking like a future self for a second, I realised why after thinking about it. "Dad, you were scared," I said, frowning as everything fit together. "It was the only way, in your head at the time, that it would stop me from going to the stream again." I paused, I was never this smart. "You were trying to protect me, and were furious I had put myself in danger."

I looked ahead, looking back over all the things Dad had ever said to me. They all made sense when you looked through his mind, realising how he really felt. When I came to, Dad was staring at me. "When did you get so smart?" he asked. He wasn't joking, he was serious.

"I..." I was about to tell him everything, everything about Leslie, my future self, and the fact that I knew he would die if I hadn't burst his tyre. "I'm not sure."

I couldn't. Jess had warned me, he had told me not to let anyone know. I was inclined to trust him. I didn't even sound like myself any more... not even the words I thought were my own. This was so weird. "Well," Dad said, trying not to choke up. "Whatever you're doing, it's working."

I really hoped so, or this would be the last time I spoke to Dad.

"I'm sorry about your friend, Jess," Dad said. "I'm sorry for not comforting you soon enough, I'm sorry for everything."

I hugged him, not giving him chance to continue. He ruffled my hair. "I was right about you Jess," he said. "You've become a man."

I smiled into his chest. "Love you, Dad."

He paused for a second. "Love you too..." he paused, squeezing me tighter, "son."

**A/N: That's it, the last chapter before the finale. I really hope you enjoyed it and I'm looking forward to all of your responses! **

**Till next time, the last time, **

**Tend to Infinity**


	13. Finale: Heaven Can Wait

**A/N: Well, here we are, the end. I'm not going to go on, I just want to get right on with this story. Thanks, in advance, for reading this far, and I hope the ending does the story justice, however good the story may or may not have been. **

**Special thanks to all of you this time, thanks to everyone who has reviewed or read. I really hope that I have got you into this story, I hope you have enjoyed it. **

**Apparently, I am now part of the "33k club". Thank you, MadTom, for letting me know. I didn't know the original BtT was 33k words, more or less. I thought this story was a bit too short, but knowing that has made me feel better about finishing it here. **

**Finale: Heaven Can Wait**

Nothing short of terror could describe the hours before I went to bed. I spent as much time as I could staring at the radio hoping my past self would come back onto the radio. Every few minutes I would call: "Jess, Jess! Are you there?"

There was no response. Once he had left to break Dad's car I hadn't heard from him again. It was like the world was out to get me, to make me worry all day and into the next, just to get to me. Damn it! I was waiting, constantly, for something to change in my memory, some reference to Dad, some headache.

Whilst I was sitting, waiting, I started to think about my memory. I had collapsed, taken into a painless... headache? I was knocked unconscious by it and, when I awakened, everything had changed. Was that a coincidence? It didn't sound likely. Then again, I was talking to someone, who was actually me, in the past on an ancient radio. Could I talk about anything that even resembled probability now?

I locked up the shop and sighed before resting my head on the door. Night had rolled in, but I didn't care. He couldn't have done it, surely I would have known by now. Would I have fainted? If he had stopped the event, then I would have fainted/realised by now. I checked my watch, it was ten past eight. "Damn," I sighed, tear in my eye now. "I've messed everything up. No Leslie in my head, no Dad in my life."

The drive home was unusual. Usually, I just felt sad and lonely. Now, it was worse than that. I felt nauseas and was worried every time I opened my mouth to sigh deeply, it was comforting, that I was going to be sick. I had some pretty bad times in my sixteen years on this planet, but this was probably the worst, along with the day Leslie had left me. I should have taken the advice of the films: "Don't mess with the past!"

The strangest thing of all, and something that kept coming back to me, was that I felt... tired. Usually, I was wide awake constantly: Insomnia had plagued my nights since Leslie. Now, I felt like I would die. I had to slap myself in the face every five seconds otherwise I would fall asleep at the wheel. Of all the ways to go, I didn't want to go in a car...

"Damn it!" I shouted to myself, exasperated, before slapping myself in the face again. "Is something wrong with me?"

I felt drugged, even though I had never tried drugs... strange thing for me to think. My thoughts were going insane and the tiredness was taking over. When I finally reached the house... well, saying I was relieved would be an understatement.

"Hi, Jess," May Belle said, smiling.

"Err..." I felt like I couldn't speak. "Hello."

Whenever I felt weird, I wondered if I had lost my mind. Was I right this time? "What's wrong?" May Belle asked. Woah, I must be looking really awful if May Belle was so sure something was wrong.

"Nothing," I forced out after a second. "Err..." Words had left me again, this was so infuriating!

"Mum has saved you some dinner," she informed me, like she often did when came back from work late. "Do..."

"Just tell her..." Words were gone again. "Damn!" I shouted, furious that I couldn't speak. May Belle jumped on the spot and stared at me, obviously shocked. "Sorry," I said, after a moment of silence. She looked even more confused about my mood. "Don't look at... me like that!"

"Are you drunk?" she asked. I think she was joking, but I didn't want her to tell Mum and for it to be a big thing.

"No," I growled. "Tell... Mum that... that I'm really tired. Tell her that I'd like my... food for breakfast, put it in... the fridge."

How could I explain how I felt? It was a combination of many things. I felt like I had been smacked around the head with a baseball bat and shoved into water. Everything was getting blurry... blurrier and blurrier by the second. "That explains it," May Belle remarked after a second.

"I'm going to... head off to bed," I grunted, stumbling through the door. "It's been a... hard day... a long, hard day..."

I pulled my legs along to the stairs, just as I raised a leg to ascend the stairs that seemed to stretch up further than Jacob's ladder, May Belle interrupted me. "Why did you ask me about Dad yesterday?" she asked.

That meant he was still gone, but I didn't even have the energy to feel anything. Why had this come on in the car? It was so sudden, but it was getting worse. "Oh," I said, yawning. It wasn't a real yawn, it wasn't that kind of tired, it was just to convince May Belle I wasn't drunk. "That. Listen... May Belle, I'll... tell you about that... in the morning."

My voice was getting more and more fragmented. Was this what dying felt like? Was that what was happening? I wouldn't be at all surprised.

"Oh," she said, looking mildly disappointed. "All right then. See you in the morning, Jess."

I nodded and forced myself up the stairs. The stairs never seemed to stop, and each step took all of my effort. Was this the test to get into heaven? Was this the ladder Jacob had dreamt about? The ladder that had been on so many T.V shows was real and, in fact, not going through the clouds, but in my house. I was just being stupid, now, I was just tired. I'd had to think all day, and plan everything. I wish that I could see the fruit of my emotional and mental investment, though.

"Come on," I grunted, pulling my leg up the last step. "I can't fail... now..."

I felt happy, no... brilliant, when I made it to that last step. Perhaps it was the fabled ladder. No, it was just my stairs. "Stop... being... an... idiot," I muttered as I shuffled into my room.

Without warning, my legs failed beneath me. I managed to catch my bed before hitting the ground, so I didn't make enough noise for someone to come rushing up, but the fact that I couldn't walk was... well, I felt nothing. I couldn't get back up, but I didn't want to. All my thought, effort and life went into pulling myself onto the bed.

My mind was almost gone... as I rolled myself onto my back I let out a long, sad sigh. As my eyes slowly shut, my last words were: "Night... night... Les... lie..."

Going... going... gone.

**xXx**

My eyes snapped open to see light poring into my room. I felt refreshed and ready for another awful day of the younger Jess sobbing down the radio that he had failed. You know, I was pretty sure I wasn't going to wake up after last night. As I drifted off, I thought that this was it, I was going to see Leslie again. Was it wrong of me to be disappointed?

I got out of bed and looked around. No one was there, and my room was messy as usual. I checked my watch, it was nine thirty. Shit, had I missed school? I couldn't even pretend to be interested, I was well aware that my life was destined to be within that shop. The strange thing was that no one had woken me up?

"Mum?" I called, before coughing erratically. What the hell was wrong with my voice? It was all shrill and stupid. I must not have woken up fully. "Mum?" I frowned when there was no reply. The coughing had made my voice go back to normal, horse and gruff (much like Dad's). I guess that's what life does to you; it makes you gruff.

I fell out of bed and shuffled out of the room. I was so quick out of the room, wanting to go to the shop, that it passed in a blur. "Where the hell is everyone?" I muttered, looking down the hall. They should have woken me up for chores, at least. In fact, I'm amazed they didn't. Yesterday I had been woken up be May Belle at half six, so it wasn't that Dad was gone...

Dad was gone. I let those words sink in as I made for the stairs. I can't believe that I couldn't do anything. As much as I wanted to, and no matter how I tried I looked at me and the younger Jess as different people, I couldn't blame him. He was just a little kid. I was the brains behind it, everything that went wrong was my fault, the sixteen year old Jess Aarons.

The stairs, that were once an enormous ladder, were now back to normal. They were a bit taller than usual, but I was tired. That was the first good night sleep I have had in five years, it was so, so refreshing. Maybe, because I was asleep so long, it was taking a while to wake up. Yeah, that would explain why everything didn't look right.

I walked down the stairs, thinking about Dad and trying to process memories, but everything seemed dull in my mind, like memories were threatening to fade. Life really sucks... and I tried to avoid thinking that. I went for the door, planning to skip breakfast, and school, to head straight for the shop and wait for the radio. But when I did, I almost fell over in shock. Why was the handle much higher up than usual? I couldn't be that asleep, could I?

I reached for the door again, when it opened for me. Maybe I'm dreaming. "Hi, Jess," a gruff, deep voice greeted.

Dad? "D...D...D?" I stuttered. It's Dad, clean shaven and without the wrinkles of work that he usually hand. Dad... the dead man who had died in a car crash. Had Jess done it? He must of done! He saved Dad, thank God!

"Are you all right?" he asked.

I smiled broadly, much happier knowing Jess had done it. "Yeah, sorry. I had a good nights sleep," I explained to him.

"I did, too," he said. "Thank you for talking to me last night," he ruffled my hair. "You're a good kid."

"W..W?" I stuttered again. Had he said last night?

"I thought I could let you have the day off school, you've been through enough,"

"T...t?" I couldn't speak. Had he really just said last night? Was I dreaming? That must be it.

"Look, I've got stuff to do," he chortled, heading past me. "Make sure you get some cereal, we don't want you starving on us, you hear?"

I couldn't hear. I couldn't figure out if I was dead, or in a dream. I couldn't possible be alive, not with Dad being nice, alive and saying we spoke yesterday. I searched my brain, but nothing was coming. I must be dead, unless... "Wait a second," I muttered, mouth agape. "Where's the mirror?" I tried to run upstairs, but there was an inconsiderate knock on the door. Torn between running upstairs and the curiosity of the door, I stood still. "Damn it," I growled, hopping down the stairs and grabbing the handle.

"It's you!" I gasped, when I had opened the door.

"How do you do?" the weird old man answered. He had returned, to our house, but how could he know where I lived? He looked identical to before, a red like corduroy suit and cap, but, this time, was accompanied by a walking stick. He was still smiling, and his eyes were still sparkling.

"You..." I stammered. "You gave me the radio!"

"That I did, lad," he smiled. "It's always strange when you meet someone you've already met, before you have actually met them, isn't it," he chortled. He looked up at my face and grinned. "Oh, you haven't figured it out yet. It's OK, I can wait."

"But..." Words were coming out in a way similar to last night, fragmented and broken. "Does that mean?"

The old man gasped. "Of course," he said, and started to look through his pocket, looking up at the ceiling as he did so. I'd never met an old man quite as, well, child like as he was. Then again, I'd never met someone so happy, or someone who just looked like they had the wisdom of the world... "Just give me a second, here," he said. Finally, just as I began to wonder how deep that pocket possible, his hand came back with a small, pocket shaving mirror. "Here you are."

This answered my suspicions immediately and, as I brought the mirror up to my face, my mouth fell open. It was me, like you would expect to see in a mirror , but it wasn't the sixteen year old me I had lived with for almost a year, or the fifteenth, or the fourteenth. No, staring back at me was my eleventh year old self. The young, happy, messy haired little boy. "But.." I stuttered again, heart pounding with shock. "How?" was all I could manage to say.

He laughed again. It wasn't a nasty laugh, though; the sound didn't annoy me at all. "Well..." he began to say, but he was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching.

"Jess?" It was Dad. "Who was at the..." he stopped as he saw the old man at the door. "Oh, hello," he grunted at the man. "Can we help you?"

"Actually," he said, "I think you can." He paused for a second to look at his watch, he grinned, the put it back. "See, old radios have become something of a collectors item around Virginia and the rest of the states," he explained to a perplexed Dad. "It's been going round that the Aarons' family is in possession of an old H.A.M."

"Yeah," Dad replied. "I put out the information for anyone who wanted it."

I wasn't listening any more. I couldn't stop staring at myself in the mirror. I was eleven years old! Eleven years old! I kept repeating it, over and over again, in my head. "Well, like I said," I heard, when my head came back. "They are very rare, now, and demand money among collectors. I am one of those people," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a particularly fat wallet. "If it's the one I'm thinking it is, then it is worth quite a bit of money."

"Sorry, but, who are you?" he asked. Dad was always suspicious of people who don't let tell him their name.

"Oh, how rude of me," the man said, shaking his head. "My name is Mr. Malakh."

Mr. Malakh? That was one of the strangest names I've ever heard. "Mr. Malakh?" Dad repeated, obviously feeling the same way I had.

"Yeah, weird name isn't it?" the old man, Mr. Malakh, mused. "Anyway," he said, raising his hand as if to stop him from being distracted. "These H.A.M radios are worth quite a lot of money now."

"Oh?" Dad said, obviously interested at the thought of money. "What kind of money are we talking, here?"

"Due to its rarity," the man continued. "It would be an insult to offer you anything under, say, ten thousand dollars. How does that sound?"

Dad's mouth fell open, much like mine had at the sight of my face. "T...T...ten..." Dad stuttered. It was funny how similar the two of us were in shock. I was amazed too, ten thousand dollars was a lot of money.

"Yeah, you heard me right," the old man repeated, grinning so widely that his mouth threatened to break away from his face. "Ten thousand American dollars. I got the money out," he explained. "It is in the car. I don't think you would be comfortable with a check, but if you want one I can write one."

Dad's mouth kept opening and closing. "Tell you what," Mr. Malakh smiled. "Could you go grab it for me, we'll iron out the details in a minute."

Dad nodded like a little child and, without saying anything, scurried up the stairs. Everything was passing in a blur. I was eleven! Dad was alive! Wait... I was eleven, does that mean what I think it does.

"I'm so scatter brained today," Mr Malakh joked, straightening his cap. "You asked me how it worked, how you were eleven again?"

"Yeah," I muttered, mouth falling open again. "How do you remember? You gave me the radio in the future?"

He laughed. "Yeah, time is a strange beauty, isn't she?" he straightened his hat again. "Well, you remember when I gave you a radio?" I nodded quickly. "Well, it's the same radio as upstairs, but I guess you figured that out already."

I nodded. "I got my younger self to draw on it." I stopped, it wasn't my younger self any more. It was me. As I spoke, these memories came flooding back to me. We were one person, now it felt like it.

"You're a clever kid," Mr. Malakh chortled. "Anyway, I gave it to you at the same time that, in your younger self's time, you got it in the past." He scratched his head. "It's all very confusing, and I'm not going to pretend to you I'm smart enough to understand any of it." He stopped, frowning as he thought about it. "Anyway, somehow there was a connection between the two of you," he stopped. "Step outside," he told me after a moments thought. "We don't want your dad hearing all of this madness, do we?"

I shook my head, much like Dad had before me, and followed him outside. I was right, when I had thought in the shop and just now, this man was incredibly wise. Perhaps wiser than any man who has been alive. "There was a connection between the past and the future, which, as you figured out, gave you the chance to exploit it to change some terrible events." He sighed. "There's nothing more terrible than a child's death, it hurts me, even to think about it."

"Yes..." I sighed.

"I keep going off the point," he sighed, slapping the side of his leg and coughing. "This leads me, nicely, to how you are back in the past. Time is beautiful, like I said, but it is fragile, as well. Messing around with it, like I'm sure you know, can lead to dire consequences, like the 'death' of your father."

"I had to plan around it," I told him.

He smiled at me. "Very impressive," Mr. Malakh mused. "Well... how can I put this," he hummed for a second. "You broke time. It was so smashed, with two people that shouldn't be alive wandering together, that it reset itself to the nearest possible point where it was normal. That was today, the day after you," he grinned. "The day after you took a knife to your dad's wheel."

He knew everything...

"Does that mean..." I trailed off, not wanting to know the answer in case I was crushed by it.

"It does," he smiled. My mouth fell open again.

"You really are an incredible young man, Jess Aarons," Mr. Malakh explained. "I know you have probably thought you weren't good enough for Leslie, but I have to tell you that you couldn't be more wrong." He was right, I had thought that, and I had wished it had been me instead. Was there anything he didn't know? "You were given the chance to change time, to be a billionaire, like most people would, to become the king of the world, like others might. You didn't though. You put Leslie first. That makes you a hero, in my book." Was he referring to what everyone had called me after I had jumped in to save Leslie. New memories were hitting me with every word Mr. Malakh said. "That makes you worthy, in my humble opinion."

I couldn't speak. Just as Mr. Malakh opened his mouth to speak again, the door burst open. It was Dad. "I'm sorry I took so long," he gasped. He didn't have the radio with him, however. "Jess. It's Leslie! She's woken up!"

That's impossible, I thought, Leslie's dead. "We can go there as soon as this man has his radio," he said, looking happier than I had ever seen him. "Thank you," he said to Mr. Malakh, before disappearing back inside.

Mr. Malakh just looked at me, beaming. "Thank you," I muttered. Walking over to him and squeezing him. "You brought her back to me..." I tried to hold the tears in, but they wouldn't stop.

"No, I didn't," he told me, pushing me away at the shoulders. He looked moved. "I just gave you the method, you brought her back. You're the kid that just keeps giving, a rare breed indeed." He straightened his hat, smiling and laughing kept knocking it around his head. "I would say something like: don't forget what you've been given. I'd be wasting my time, however. You know how important everything is now."

I still had one more, pressing question. "But... why do I still remember everything, it didn't happen!"

"Well, you were involved, as I am," he explained. "You have the memory as long as you want it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you could lose that memory, should you want to," he told me. "But, that's up to you."

I could decide what to do with the memory. I wiped my eyes, realising what I had to do.

Dad popped out of the house, carrying the radio in his arms. "Yes," Mr. Malakh said. "That's the one." He said, looking at it before Dad had the chance to.

"Brilliant," Dad grinned, hauling the beast over to us.

"I'll just go an unlock the trunk," Mr. Malakh said, walking over to his little, red and incredibly old, Mini car.

"Damn!" Dad shouted after looking at his car. "Jess, the car! The wheel is broken, we don't have a spare."

My mouth fell open, this time in fear. "Don't worry about that," Mr. Malakh laughed. "I've got a spare right here, in the trunk." He patted his car, as if it were his faithful little companion. "Jess, can you come over and grab it for your Dad, and lay it by the car. I'll get out of your hair, after I've given your dad his money, so you can visit whoever it is you want to see." He winked at me.

I nodded quickly, grabbing the wheel out of the car and doing my best to roll it along the floor. I wanted to help him, for two reasons: he had done so much for me and I "wanted him out of my hair" so I could go and visit... well, so I could go to the hospital. I couldn't visit Lesley, she'd been dead for five years. There must be some mistake.

I waited for Dad and Mr. Malakh for what must have been an hour, but, when I checked my watch, it had only been five minutes. "Wait here, Jess," Dad instructed. "Make sure you thank this man, he's done a big thing here. I've got to go and let the family know, I'll only be ten minutes."

Dad scurried back in the house like a child on Christmas. "He's a nice man, your dad I mean," Mr. Malakh told me.

"Yeah, I know that now," I said, watching the door, waiting for Dad to come out of the door and drive me to the hospital.

"Are you excited?" Mr. Malakh asked.

The next second, I heard a scream (Mum must have come in through the back door from farm work) and a sound of running. Mum burst out of the door, running at Mr. Malakh like a women possessed. She had tears in her eyes. "Thank you," she said, embracing him and kissing him on the cheek. "Thank you, thank you."

"Maam, please," Mr. Malakh said, blushing.

"You have no idea how important this is, we'll never forget you," she said. "If there's anything we can do for you..."

"No," he said. "Just knowing that I've made a difference, and of course this radio, are enough for me."

"Thank you, thank you!" she kept saying, as Dad came out of the door with a car jack.

"I'm going to go now," Mr. Malakh said. "This boy obviously wants to see whoever was," he coughed. "Asleep. I don't want to take up any more of your time."

"It's not a problem," Mum and Dad said at the same time.

"No... no," he said, grinning at the happiness of the Aarons family. "I have things to do, places to be, people to see, you know how it is." He got out his watch, the one I had seen before, in the future. What a strange thing to say. "Wow, is that what time it is?" he gasped. "I've got to go, sorry. Thank you for the radio," he smiled. "I hope everything goes well for all of you."

He turned to leave. "Mr. Malakh," I called after him.

He looked up as he opened the door. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

He smiled at me, winked, and then drove off. "Good day to you all," he said, out of the window, and headed down the the dust road away from the house.

**xXx**

Mum and Dad put the new wheel on the car in what must have been a record time. They had a quick conversation, followed by Mum hugging me and telling me that Leslie was fine. She was lying to me, though, Leslie was, like I kept saying to myself, dead. She just couldn't be lying in a bed, waiting for me. That was insane; you were dreaming, Jess. You must be, stuff like this just didn't happen in the real world.

"Come on, kiddo," Dad said, opening the car door for me. "I think you have someone to see."

I got in the car, running the thought through my mind again and again. No, it was impossible. I'd grown up with Leslie not being there. None of this made sense. I shut my eyes and squeezed them shut, hoping to wake up before I lost myself in this dream, I hated disappointment. But I didn't wake, I pinched myself, leaned against the window. I tried everything. There was only one other explanation... this must be real! Could it be... was Leslie Burke... Queen Leslie of Terabithia... my best friend... could she be alive?

"Come on," I whispered. "Come on, come on."

"Calm down, son," Dad said, leaning over and squeezing me on the shoulder as we headed down the road to Tristitia Hospital. "She's not going anywhere."

She's not going anywhere. She's not being taken away from me by a band of angels... she's not climbing Jacob's ladder... she's waiting in the hospital for me. Oh my God, she was waiting in the hospital for me.

"We're here," Dad said. I had sank into my own mind, thinking of all the times we had gone to Terabithia, and what we would do when we returned. I looked around. He wasn't lying, we were in the Tristitia Hospital car park. "Let's go then."

He didn't have to tell me twice, I jumped out of the car so fast I may as well have thrown myself out to the floor. Dad led me through the halls. They had once looked dismal, full of people with casts and crying. Now there were people laughing, talking about people who had lived and babies that had been born. The grey walls were now gold and sparkling. Even the surly receptionist looked as though she had a halo floating about her neat bun of hair.

"Come on," I muttered. "Come on, come on."

I felt Dad squeeze my shoulder again. What he didn't realise was that I wasn't begging for time to go faster, I was begging that this wasn't a dream. Life had a way of smacking you whenever you were happy. I was just praying that this was not one of those times.

Then we arrived. The large door that led to the ward where... where she was. I stopped dead in my tracks, just staring at the door. I felt both sick and like I could dance. I felt like I could fall on my knees and weep, and that I could jump for joy and sing praise. I couldn't hold it any more, I pushed the door open and almost ran through.

There was only one bed occupied, with two people around it. They two people looked at me. It was Bill and Judy, but I didn't notice them. I couldn't see Leslie, she was concealed behind her parents. "Leslie," Judy said, tears coming to her eyes when she saw me. "Someone's here to see you."

"It's Jess, right?" a high pitched, wonderfully young voice said. The world went dead around me, but her voice came clear as day.

When I didn't move, Dad lead me from my shoulder around his parents, so I was standing at the end of her bed. My eyes started at the edge to bed, then moved my way up before, finally, and after what seemed like two eternities, our eyes met. Her blue eyes coming to mine. I almost looked away, not deserving to look at her I could, I was fixed on her eyes.

"I think we should give them a minute, don't you," a voice said, but it wasn't Judy, this time. This time, Bill had said it.

"I think that as well," Judy said.

"See you in a minute, son," Dad said, and I could barely hear him. I couldn't take my eyes of Leslie. Her face was slightly round, with messy, golden hair. She looked paler than I remembered, but she had been in a coma. Her eyes shone, they shone with something I hadn't seen in so long. They shone with happiness.

"Hey, Jess, how you been?" she asked, grinning broadly. She reminded me of Mr. Malakh, happiness radiated from her, even after awakening from a coma.

"Leslie," I said, walking over, around the bed, to her side. "Leslie Burke..." I leaned forward and hugged her. I could feel her, she was real. There was no embarrassment this time, not fear, just the love of seeing her after being alone so long.

"I've been OK, Leslie," I said, taking in every moment, knowing what was coming. "I'm just so glad to see you..." My voice trailed off.

Going... going... and I was gone.

**xXx**

Jess Aarons was a sixteen year old boy who gave his memory away in his best friends arms. He had planned to do that the moment he had spoken to the weird old man. It was what he wanted. He wanted the last thing that he did, in his mind, to be in Leslie's embrace. For him, it was the perfect ending. He couldn't live as a sixteen year old in an eleven year old, it just wouldn't work... No one else knew about the old man or the radio, so the idea of conversing with the past would remain something in Science Fiction for Jess.

Jess, though still withdrawn, had a real appreciation for life itself unheard of in children. Even if he didn't remember the years without her, something was there that reminded him that things can be taken from you. Maybe it was because he still remembered her falling. Regardless, he never chose anything over Leslie again.

Jess and Leslie remained friends. They were closer than ever, spending every waking moment with each other. To Jess's joy, there was no long lasting damage to Leslie, bar a scar on her arm where she had cut herself on a rock. She, as she would, insisted, while in the hospital and then on, that it wasn't the rain that broke the rope. It was the dark master, he didn't want them to free the Terabithians. Jess had just stared at her, nodding every few seconds, and totally engrossed in her voice.

Even in Leslie's incredible mind, she could not possibly imagine what had happened to "time itself" just to protect her. Jess didn't know, either, that she had died and he had grown up without her. Magic, or whatever it was that intervened, was not just in their imaginations. It existed, but they didn't know how much it had changed them. However, very few people were as connected with it than the two of them, one way of another.

Jess and Leslie continued to go to church every Sunday, and she continued to wear her bulky boots along with her best dressed. Jess always sniggered, both at the dress and the shoes, but Leslie, unlike other girls, just smiled back, confident in knowing that Jess would never hurt a fly. And, every night, Jess thanked God that he didn't take Leslie from him.

Everything seemed to have got better after that... the incessant, previously intolerable, bullying from Scott was now a mild irritation and not as often as before. He had found a new respect for Mrs. Myers, who had understood him better than anyone, and never spoke in her lessons. The crush for Ms. Edmunds, on the other hand, had vanished completely. It was as if it was never there. He didn't want a picture of Ms. Edmunds any more, he had everything he wanted.

As they grew, their bond grew stronger and stronger. So much so that people mocked them and laughed at them, in high school, for having no friends other than each other. Perhaps the wisdom of his older self had remained, because he did not retaliate or lose his temper. He let them laugh; he did not stop them. For he knew that nothing in this world that was worth having came without people laughing at it. The way Leslie saw it was: if laughing at them made them happy, and let them experience what the two of them had, then that was good enough for her. "Share the wealth," was what she usually said, to the frowns of confusion from everyone else, with a grin permanently plastered onto her face.

They went through the events life has for everyone else, but there was something that they had that no one else did: each other. With that, they could go through the worst things life could throw at you and get through it.

Jess and his father got along better than ever. Finally they were a proper family, putting their relationship before money. The ten thousand dollars that Mr. Malakh had given him paid off their debts, and it put them in a much better financial position. The gruff, to the point Jack Aarons wasn't a bad man, he was just wrapped in troubles with money, and unable to protect his family. Fear changed people, and when it was gone they changed back.

As for the the identity of the mysterious old man that was Mr. Malakh, with his strange attire and even stranger name. Well, Jess never found out, so I think I can leave that up to you...

~Fin~

**An author's closing remarks: Well, there you have it. There's the ending. I decided not to have any reference to the movie "Frequency" for the ending, I wanted to make it my own. **

**All went well, the two of them grew up together. It was as if she never died. I know I have resolved my hatred of her death, and I hope I have done the same for you. Thanks for forcing me to update, without you I would have quit and not finished what I started. You, my reviewers, are the best.**

**If you don't mind, could you give me a bit of a detailed review, letting my know what you liked, hated, just your opinion. That would be very helpful.**

**As for a sequel, I don't know. I don't think there can be one. However, I may write a high school/middle school story about the two of them, using this story as the reason for Leslie being alive. That's up to you, though. If you want that to be the case, let me know in your review.**

**Thank you for reading my story, and this section (most people just skip the author's notes). I loved writing it, and I hope you at least liked reading it. **

**Peace out,**

**Tend to Infinity.**


	14. Sequel

**Sequel**

Sorry to update, but this is just to let people know that there is, in fact, a sequel to this. It's called Tristitia. This is the first part of three stories, which are all linked together. I don't want people to read this one without knowing the whole story ^^.

Make sure you read the sequel, if you liked this one.

Later,

Serac.


End file.
